


Ice Princess Visenya the Second

by MzMilo



Series: Grace Under Fire [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aemon is Visenya II's dragon knight, Bit OOC or aged up slightly, Fix-It Alternate Universe–Canon Divergence, Gen, Jon Snow is reincarnated in multiple universes, Magic is back BECAUSE of Visenya II, Prophecy of the prince that was promised, R plus L equals J&V, Rhaegar Lives, Ser Willem Darry Lives, Vermax's Eggs under Winterfell, Viserys III is redeemed, Wish Fulfillment, and is reborn as Visenya II, author finds tagging spoils a lot, broken yet she is trying to fix herself & Westeros, lots of implied hints of romance at least, meaning twin!fic, one egg that hatched is a hydra, pairings are not the main point, she is BAMF, shenanigans with the twins' band of misfits is abound, so did his kingsguards: Ser Arthur Dayne & Oswell Whent, the dragon must have 3 heads is NOT a metaphor, to the extreme, twins' platonic devotion just to be clear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12974064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MzMilo/pseuds/MzMilo
Summary: Multiple lives after the first lifetime of seventy namedays, it is the game of thrones all over again. This time, Jon Snow reborn as Visenya II bloody Targaryen will play by her own rules.(written in drabbles) #femJon Snow #twinsfic #Visenya&Aemon





	1. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

**01.**

_"But you, Lord Snow, you'll be fighting their battles forever."_

Coming from a bitter Targaryen loyalist, Alliser Thorne, those scornful words has cursed Jon Snow's life.

Including Jon Snow's third life, Yohan the son he never was to the lone Dragonrider, Murtagh.

Yohan died a premature death in that lifetime.

And is reborn in the fourth life, Kurosaki Ryuu, an apprentice of Emiya Shirou.

Kurosaki Ryuu died with a smile on his lips while defending his comrades.

The fifth life is in the afterlife, as Ulquiorra Cifer, a wandering soul lost in Hueco Mundo for hundreds of years.

And once more is reborn as Yazoo through the super-soldier experiments of Doctor Hojo inside Midgard's walls.

Yazoo is hunted down in that life.

Both seventh and eight lives are magical numbers. Lives that are trapped as Jon Snow once more in several loops which are best not to be remembered in the next life.

His next life is spared for he had forgotten his past lives, and fortunately, for him, so did the lives that follow after the ninth life. None of these reincarnations' memories in many alternate universes are remembered in present lives.

After all, living over and over again can wear anyone down until they are broken.

The ill twist of fate though, has other plans.

* * *

**02.**

A gasp comes out from the small figure on the bed. Disoriented, the lone figure's eyes looked around the familiar surroundings with uncertainty. Then with a hiss of pain and gritting teeth, the figure's body recoils from the wave of memories that storm from within the mind.

 _JonSnow's-Jaeherys'-Aemon's-Yohan's-Ryuu's-Ulquiorra's-Yazoo's-and other counterparts'_  own memories:  _devoted love for his family; thirst for recognition and approval; sweat and tears; nights without an hour of rest; days toiling in learning-labor-sparring; joy of acceptance; victory after victory; faces of rivals and enemies that haunted his dreams; pain of loneliness; rejection; raw emotions from being left behind; breaking of bonds; running away; struggling hope; solitude of_ _distance; new chances; the reunions; utter defeat; fighting back; determination; his will after death, and so on…_

The painful rush of memories is bewildering. The pain soars in heights one cannot describe in words. Every seconds give the impression that years has passed rather than one torturous moment.

The warmth from the inside gets more and more real, warmer and warmer. Until, it is hot and hotter and has become unbearable.

Then unexpectedly, it is dosed by cold, freezing water and a crippling sensation of needles in millions prickling the skin. Feeling trapped and drowned, like a roaring force grappling with ferocious strength pounding all over—a sense of being strangle and pinned down by some invisible force. The intensity it plagues is both raging and unforgiving.

The next thing that happens is confusing. Everything is trampled down completely gone. It's like the sense of being in the void of nowhere and nothing.

After a few minutes of resting from the assault of both memories, and cursing Fate and both old and new gods for the nth time, eyes silently peruses the new body through the sense of touch. The face is cherubic with big, midnight black curls that reach past the waist of a five namedays girl, Lyarra Snow.

 _Of course,_  she thinks dryly,  _it is the Game of Thrones all over again. And the Silver Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen had always wanted a girl, his beloved Visenya to complete the set of three heads of a dragon._

Next, a grimace and a tick decorate her features when a sudden thought occurs to hi-her as a quick glance—with a quick review in the present memories which gives her the recognition—to her twin brother, Jon Snow.

_._

_._

_._

_No._  She corrects herself. Her twin could be originally named as Aemon or Jaeherys Targaryen sleeping on the other bed.

A vice grips her heart from this irony and protectiveness, remembering her first life.

_How lucky that you know nothing, little brother._

She sighs wearily, ignoring the impending Prophecy and instead focuses in the present. Twitching her fingers, and wiggling her toes she waits for the signs of hysteria that will be the end of her control. She feels the weight of her body as if it anchors this reality, her reality, and the comprehension of who she is supposed to be.

_"Visenya the Second bloody Targaryen."_

Apparently, the gods fulfilled said Prince's wish when it suited their purpose.

And who could do it better than the heart and soul who has lived and remembered multiple lives?

The longer she thinks about it, the more tired (as Jon/Jaehaerys/Aemon), annoyed and frustrated (as Visenya) she felt

Why is she here in Westeros? Again? As Visenya the Second? With a twin brother to boot?

What was she supposed to do? Fix it all? Once more?

Must she even have to give a damn at all?

* * *

**03\. Lyarra Snow**

This is how her day starts: Too young and innocent to endure the scornful looks, the whispers, the sheer amount of loathing to a bastard child.

And yet young Visenya, who everybody knows in Winterfell as Lyarra Snow remains indifferent in facing most of the  _should-be-dead_  people who knows nothing but the present day chores. Much of her concern belongs to her sweet little brother. A brother, whose smiles have become as rare as a shooting star these days.

In the deepest depths of her scarred heart, Lyarra could not help but hate this people. Despite the looming prophecy, she does not understand why it takes two orphan children to save the entire Westeros from the Children's self-fulfilling annihilation.

* * *

**04.**

In the night, it starts with random projections.

It comes to her through dreams.

There is an island under a bright summer sun, or rather islands on the azure waters. Cities built on layered terraces. A wall made of trees and roads lit by shining gold or pathways of divided water. Sparkling bejewelled towers with windows so gigantic dragons can easily get in and get out.

She dreams of flying on top of the cities, deciduous forest, mountainous peaks, and sea green waters with her  brother and other flyers. Laughing while walking with Aemon as people of various races passes by them with welcoming smiles of camaraderie.

If that is what heaven looks like Lyarra wants to live in it.

_Is it too much to want that?_

She dreams and dreams.

In the deepest part of her jaded heart, she hopes…

And then promptly pushes that thought away, too.  _(Jon Snow has long since given up on wanting truly impossible things. Like unconditional love and acceptance.)_

* * *

**05.**

Except she refuses to sit idly by the sideline.

 _If my twin brother has to become the Prince That Was Promise,_ Lyarra thinks grimly,  _I have to do things to arm ourselves and what better help can anyone ask for than the magical creature that breathes fire in this thrice-damned game of thrones?_

With this decisive purpose, Lyarra seeks for Vermax's eggs and find the eggs which are heavily guarded by familial runes that only one with both Targaryen blood  _and_  Stark blood can open under the deepest spring of Winterfell's underground crypts.

_(She remembers…an advantage that she counts as a blessing._

_Once a magical half-blood sorcerer of Russian origin with one Dark Lord breathing down his neck who seeks the answer to obtain immortality, the quest made of runes is nearly easy for her.)_

Bloodying herself with a Valyrian dagger which she founds beneath the stone pillar. Lyarra drips her blood over the familial runes. She half expects something dramatic like a cave-in of sorts when she has the obtained the eggs and is slightly disappointed that nothing happens.

However, something else happens.

One of the eggs cracks open.

Dragons inside their eggs are supposed to slumber.

But what does she knows?

* * *

**06.**

It took a while for her to come back to the reality.

"Well, hello." Lyarra greets quietly to the hatchlings of one snowy white scaled body that finds shelter on her lap even as the cold draconic  primary colored eyes lock onto hers.

They are barely a moment old.

The fast-tracking inspection of intelligent eyes however, begs to differ.

… _They are not like the others. Or even the direwolves. They actively look for me._

A dragon inside the egg is supposed to slumber and is supposed to stir into full awareness when they sense their  _Chosen_  is near them or if they  _bother to stay fully conscious_  while still inside their eggs. That is a fact from Yohan's life.

In Westeros blood magic is involved to quicken the selection like Daenerys from Jon Snow's first life did.

 _…Magic. Bloodmagic._ The eggs have been awakened by her dismantling of the runes.

The three-headed dragon nudges her hand with their snouts to get her attention, she shivers as ice-cold water that burns and tingles her skin as the bond  _snaps_  into her heartstring. This comprehension makes her feel a heady kind of sensation with the  _honor_ of being chosen by them. (Yohan before did not get chosen by one of the eggs. He died prematurely and by accidental magic, but his studies remain in her memories.)

 _Hydra,_  Lyarra recalls with fascinated alarm,  _they are called_   _can be a grounder or winged three-headed dragons or cut of its head and it will multiply. Most importantly, dragons are frighteningly sentient creatures that have the right to be selective in choosing his or her rider. The Dragonriders. The Dragonlords. The Dragonborns. Come again. For the darkness has comes, and yet the legend yet grows…_

The three-headed hydra chirp and warble and chirrup matching hear peals of hysterical laughter.

* * *

**07.**

Even as hatchlings, the three-headed hydra has each of their own personality. Also, it must be temporary insanity to name them after their namesake from Yazoo's memories.

From right, the yellow-eyed one is named Angeal, for being big-hearted and the voice of reason.

From left, the red-eyed one is named Genesis, for his mildly hot-headed temper and vanity.

In the middle, the sea-green-eyed is named Sephiroth, for his cold cunning logic and sombre leadership.

Their minds quickly formed a circle around hers, interweaving, creating partner of heart-and-mind bonds, creating… something new.

Lyarra hopes history will remember this trio of hydra very well.

* * *

**08.**

Once outside the crypts, Lyarra looks up to inspect any signs of falling red star on the skies.

There is none of that prophesized phenomena.

From the back of her mind, she unmistakeably feels the attention of something  _otherworldly_  from the godswood.

_What did this mean for her?_

_Why are they interfering now and not before?_

* * *

**09.**

Since her hydra hatched, an itch has grown stronger.

She begins to feel this itch after she  _remember_ s. An itch in Lyarra that never settles down, that she tucks it in behind her thoughts but it's  _always_  been there.

When she is once again aware of her rare circumstances of other counterparts, it's simple to ignore the itch, for she has a lot of things to do:

1\. Maintain her Ice Princess persona for her twin brother's protection.

2\. Re-orienting her magic, mentality and physicality to its full capacity. Harry Potter is not one of her counterparts, but there is one person who is parallel to him. Another candidate to Sybil's prophesy ( _other lives' memories never seem to stop on coming.)_

3\. Bonding with her hydra and training them ( _magic hides them very well_ ).

4\. Preparation for winter. She can't help much of the other families of the North. Her bastard status chained her within acceptable boundaries coughcougcough Catelyn Tully.

Pretty much occupied by her to-do list, Lyarra's attention is fully diverted to fruitful endeavour.

That is why she ignores the itch until she no longer could.

* * *

**10.**

She lives with cold gazes and blank stares and dark whispers when her back is turned, children whose parents pull them by the hand to avoid her and Aemon as if they are contagious.

Jon Snow has once lived with this cruel indifference.

Now Lyarra and Visenya has to live it all over again. Ned Stark reserved affection, Robb's awkward fondness, Arya's cautious regard (her younger cousin always have good instincts), and Bran who adored her and Aemon are never enough.

Can anyone fault her to distance herself by pulling the Ice Princess persona?

Visenya is one greedy dragon.

And she is  _tootiredtiredtired_ to prove herself once again even a she shields Aemon from the worst of the  judgmental eyes and cold proud hearts and bitter loneliness.

And yet it continues to ache and hurt her battered heart.

* * *

**11.**

At first, Lyarra has been unable to actually tell what is going on.

Second, she speculates the source is her bond with her hydra. For throughout the many lives she remember while moons comes and goes in Winterfell, one of the many things that is constant is her love for fantasy readings that dealt empathic and telepathic bonds between humans and animals or creature of magical kinds that are within her area of interest.

Third, is her realization of dragon dreams. Oh,  _nonono_.

But then she has learnt to tell them apart and recognized the patterns.

* * *

**12.**

She senses a kind of new intelligence, a presence behind the dreams. Strong, primal, aggressive and territorial, it is a strange kind of pressure growing in the back of her head. It kind of feels like an invasion if not a tentative kind of probing her.

With this realization, she panics quietly remembering the madness visions lead to. Her own male sire is the proof. Rhaegar and his obsession with prophecy. Then there is Daenys the Dreamer. The Doom of Valyria…

* * *

**13.**

Lyarra dreams.

A vast sort of all consuming grief that continues to mourns surrounds her, the ancient and untouchable presence in the dreams is half-crazed and its seering grief agonizingly  _burns_.

She finds in numbed disbelief that Valyria, the Fallen kingdom is set ablaze by  _itself._

She _somehow_ feels the sheer fury of disillusionment from the presence as Valyria  _destroys_ itself.

Volcanoes erupt with breathing fire.

The precious thousands die in  _confused_   _terror and disbelieving abandonment_.

The near extinction of dragons and deaths of thousands creatures of magic.

The loss of ancient wisdom and knowledge accumulated from the past.

The once azure seas stain crimson.

She hears a gut wrenching sound of a wounded animal howling in pain wailing in devastating waves. No small amount of guilt and remorse amplified  _its_  misery and regret.

She can only look in horror as Valyria  _self-destructs_.

It is like the Planet and her Weapons of mass destruction after the Planet  _had enough_  of the humans' follies  _without_  Aerith, the Cetra to mitigate the damage all over again as Yazoo, one of her counterpart remembers painfully.

 _Name_  has power.

 _Blood_  has power.

 _Magic of all kinds_  is power.

 _Dragons_  as Valyria's  _Original Firstborns_  represents Valyria's  _will and power_.

Valyria has ties to all four.

 _Valyria is alive_.

* * *

**14.**

Valyria is making a connection to her.

And that it's more than enough.

There is a spark, a flicker, acknowledging her even as Valyria continues to mourn and regret.

 **Child,** that vast _Voice_ , heartsick with grief, whispers in her ear.  **I have Fallen. But you are Reborn and has risen. Come home.**

* * *

**15\. Visenya**

Visenya opens her eyes, smoldering in warmth from the Call.

Angeal, Sephiroth, and Genesis sing around her.

* * *

**16.**

Before and now, Jon Snow was a sentimental fool, who was force to grow up fast and shackled himself with responsibility, duty, and obligation. Because the coldfish Catelyn Tully— _whose jealousy blinded her to love a motherless child_ —makes it her job to pound through his head that he owed the life that he was living in Winterfell through her grace alone.

In hind sight, apparently he owed Westeros his freedom and happiness which he paid with blood and death. And in the reality of game of thrones where a pawn was as useful as collateral damage, Jon Snow or Jaeherys or Aemon was never one to turn his back on those in need.

Now as Visenya, she has conflicting thoughts as she broods.

 _Eddard Stark,_  Visenya thinks with a mixture of icy rage and weary bitterness,  _our maudlin uncle with blinded loyalty to that thrice-damned oaf storm king who cannot let go of his idealized wolfmaid. Dear Lord Uncle is too honor-bounded to try to think of something else aside from branding us his bastard twins._

The lies and secrecy Jon Snow of before ignored simply because the Starks are his family. No matter how it hurts and demolished his self-worth.

But as Lyarra, importantly the elder twin, Visenya's sleeping dragon is rearing its head which make it indeed possible for her to hold a grudge the size of Westeros.

Aemon—he will always be Aemon, the dragon knight not Jaeherys the Wise nor Jon (like Arryn and Connington)—tightened his grip on their clasped hands, bringing Visenya out from her homicidal thoughts.

"Sister, what's wrong?"

From far away, she hears the _Voice_ again.

 **Come home,**  Valyria whispers in welcome.  **Please, my child. I've waited so long for you, Reborn.**

Now, Visenya has her response.

 _I once know nothing until life made me to know things, brother_. Visenya quirks a small smile instead of voicing her inner thoughts. "Would you like to have an adventure, brother?"

* * *

**17.**

This is it.

This is not a whim. This is calculated. This is the only logical conclusion and course of action for Visenya and Aemon Targaryen.

They must leave Winterfell.

They have to go away from Westeros.

Jon-Jaeherys-Aemon or Lyarra-Joanna-Visenya-Reborn whatever or whoever she will be in life, she cannot bury herself and her brother in misery forever.

* * *

**18\. Jon Snow**

_The Ice Princess._

Jon has heard those three words from the servants' of Winterfell referring to his older twin sister, Lyarra (he has often noticed the faintest grimace on his twin's face whenever anyone use Lyarra's name, and wondered why).

The Ice Princess title has Sansa frowning first but she has to agree after years of distance from the ice princess. Lady Stark has a satisfied smile when that happened, but a puckered brow smeared a line on her face when the princess title is added to Lyarra.

And Jon pretends that everyone is  _not_ tiptoeing around him when Lyarra's imposing composure has never broken anyone down in tears and piss like that time when Lyarra has had enough of the servants' children torment to him and has thrown them a knife and she says and stares at the tormentors like a wolf playing with its food,  _'Too bad I missed.'_  Jon has never seen both Father and Uncle Ben pale so fast as if Lyarra is a ghost or a wight from the stories.

Jon lets Lyarra's the ice princess plays as she never harms unless attack first, Lyarra, to Jon's scrutiny, is  _too_  coldly calculating for that. What he worries is Lyarra's distance to their family whose members she mostly holds a yardstick length with.

He pretends not to notice Theon's cringe when Lyarra is nearby which she always is—as Jon and Lyarra are  _always_  found nearby where each other is (and somehow Lyarra always knows where Jon is).

He pretends how Robb caves like a puppy to Lyarra's whims which she fortunately does not abuse much, the looks Robb have on his face has Jon thoughtful  _(overprotective)_  at times.

He pretends not to observe how their Lord Father's eyes do not directly looks at Lyarra's, and if Father looks at an unaware Lyarra he has this pensive like he is not seeing Lyarra but  _another_ person.

He pretends to miss Uncle Benjen every other night to hide the sword and archery lessons their uncle spoils him and Lyarra with fond amusement.

He pretends not to hear aunt Lyanna's name and another he did not know—Ashara in context with his twin from the servants and guests in Winterfell.

Jon pretends and continues to pretend to be oblivious to the obvious. As to why he does so is simply because it is rather hard to ask questions out loud and things tend get awkward the last time he ask Robb, who turns redder than a tomato while being horrified at the same time.

And especially their Lord Father's quiet panicky composure.

Jon never got the answers from both that satisfy his curiosity.

And most especially, Jon pretends and covers Lyarra whenever she disappears off at nights and days. ( _Why everyone else did not notice her absence is beyond Jon's understanding.)_ Currently, she comes back with a travel sack and a tired but pleased smile. The travel sack which opens and its contents are—

"Are those dragon eggs?" Jon whispers lowly, eyeing if anyone else is eavesdropping to protect his twin. He is not so surprise at the rare find. Lyarra is a seeker at best and a hoarder at worst, and she always finds what she seeks.

"I'm leaving tonight." Is the answer instead of confirmation from Lyarra.

After becoming the Ice Princess, the twin's lives have become better. More fine than before. It is why Jon is  _very_  mystified. "If I may ask why?"

"Lord Stark is not always there to protect us. And I believe I had stretched Lady Stark's tolerance too much."

Jon stares. "Like you care about Lady Stark's sensibilities, sister."

Lyarra stares back.

"Do you hate this family that much?" Jon asks in plain curiosity. The question has plagued him for years. Lyarra cares and she can love that much he  _personally_  knows. But something in his twin sometimes  _makes_ her a stranger, a matter he coins being into the Ice Princess character too much.

"I hate that staying here compromises my freedom," Lyarra clarifies with a dark shadow casting on her face.

Jon can feel that there are more to those words that are untold. However, he cannot ask for more as time is pressing forwards.

A small self-deprecating smirk curled Lyarra's lip. "You can stay here, brother. You love this family more than I do."

Jon always hates that smile. A smile that tells a story that Lyarra deserves nothing good unless she works hard for it. Jon will prove his twin wrong.

"A lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," Jon says, looking at his sister in the eye. "And we are more than that, sister."

Lyarra freezes. Jon could have laugh from catching her in surprise.

"You know something."

Huh. So it is not just him who connected the lines. "Nice to confirm you think so little of my deduction skills, sister." Jon grouches with no heat. "I'm not that bad."

"At least this spares the time to explain that we are dragons," Lyarra muses quietly.

Silence hangs in the air, taking a moment for the words to sink in.

Jon must have look like a gaping salmon."I-I haven't got that far."

Lyarra abruptly grabs him and whispers quietly into his ears. "As forbidden love tales happens, Lyanna, our mother, and Rhaegar, our father, fell in love with all reckless abandoned, got married, and war broke out given that Robert Baratheon's jealous fury and others' greedy pride became a wildfire that torn the Targaryen kingdom apart. And that makes our presence treason to the Baratheon Crown."

This time, Jon slacks his jaw with his limbs flailing. "H-How?!" he whispers furiously, ignoring how she found out the truth as Lyarra has always been odd in knowing secrets she is not supposed to know and figure out.

Lyarra's smile is all teeth. "Why don't you ask our honorable uncle, dear brother?"

Jon opens his mouths, then thinks and snaps his mouth shut in remembrance

_("It is not the right time, Jon." Father answers with grim sobriety, turning away from him._

" _So when will this right time be, Father?" Jon asks only to the wind.)_

Lyarra's face is grim. "Exactly."

Jon keeps his silence as Lyarra's busies herself in preparation for the long journey. Truth to be told, he is  _seething_  from all the secrecy. No wonder Lyarra is raring to go.

There is nothing for them here in Winterfell. And Lyarra only tolerates people for his sake.

(At the back of his mind, Jon is a little bit irritated of Lyarra. Not because she kept the truth for gods know how long, but because of the wall between them. The wall is not that high but it is still there. A wall created from Jon's love and loyalty of the Starks.

Does his sister truly believe that he loves them more than he loves her?

It seems likely.

Lyarra has stayed for him, obliges herself to the Starks as a dutiful and responsible member of the family. Hence, blinding and barring others being the Ice Princess.

And her sister utterly believes Jon is the honourable one.)

Peering outside, Jon studies the night skies. He pretends and pretends that nothing has change before the revelation, observing how the skies that stretches on forever compels him to be free.

And he wonders,  _why not?_

Why can't he do what he wants for once?

"After three days, we are leaving together, sister," Jon decides, thinking his choice over. If Jon can see from the corner of eyes, that his sister's composure cracks a little with relief that she will not be alone. That is no one else's business but his. Still, there must be payback for Lyarra's solo flight in carrying the burden. So—

"And you're telling Arya."

"She is going to throw a fit," Lyarra grumbles wearily.

"True, but Arya will understand," Jon says instantly. "She is the clever one in the pack. But Robb and Bran..." he trails off.

There is something complicated between Robb and Lyarra. At least in Robb's side.

While Bran is Lyarra's baby brother who is a brat to anyone else. And Sansa won't care much…

* * *

**19\. Visenya**

_It's today,_  Visenya thinks with a rush of elation, ignoring her twin who is thrice checking the horses, and their supplies.  _I can finally leave today._

Last night, she flashes past the lord's solar with a short message filled with an explanation why they must leave for Ned Stark's eyes only. And several bags worth a king's ransom. A due payment from the security the Stark's name has provided them.

A sharp kick in the shin (she has bruises after confronting Arya alone days before), brings her back to face Arya's disapproving frown and Bran with a sniffle. Robb is…she is lost and did not know what to make of her cousin's expression. Jon Snow's goodbye was not this hard and awkward before.

She nods briskly. "We have to go. I don't want your deaths because the dragon's children are alive."

Bran tightens his hug to Visenya. "Father will  _make_ the king understand, Lya."

Visenya leans down, brushing her fingers to wipe the boy's tear-stained cheeks and not bothering to filter her words. "Oh, Bran, the whale oaf has gone shit crazy as far as Lyanna's concerned."

Their pack shares some quiet reluctant snickers.

From her twin's side, Arya imperiously demanded, "Take me with you."

"Er," Aemon shot Visenya a helpless look.

Sighing, Visenya stands up, unmindful of the strain her waist is suffering from Bran's tight hold.

"Someday, Arya."

The certainty of her voice makes the pack's eyes to pierce her.

Arya removes herself from Aemon. "Seriously?"

"I promise."

Robb and Aemon shot each other a look, understanding the weight behind her words.

Visenya has then taken the three's attention, showing them a carved direwolf pendants with strings. "This will keep you all safe. The others are in our hiding place, Arya."

Cradling her piece, Arya knowingly eyes Visenya. "Charm with magic?"

Arya knows. It is their secret. As for the other boys, they look as if the magic thing is a jape.

Visenya idly wonders how long they will find out that Arya is serious as she accepts a tight hug from Arya.

And then it is Robb's turn to say goodbye.

There is brief moment of awkward silence, before Visenya brazenly tugs Robb forward for a quick hug. Their relationship as half-siblings had never been this ill at ease. She  _often_  did wonder what change in this life.

Letting him go, Visenya worriedly eyes Robb's flushed face. "Take a day off, Robb. You're too red in the face."

Together, Aemon and Arya's share a look before snickering.

Visenya is mystified.  _Was it something I said?_  But her attention shifts back to Bran and she offers, "When we will see each other again, I'll give you a ride with our dragons."

Bran only smiles tearfully.

They linger for a few moments and after a round of hugs, the twins pull away to straddle their horses.

"Lya—" Robb hesitates before tacking on, "Visenya take care. Aemon be that dragon knight —"he pause with a wry grin, "who protects the Ice Princess."

"Always," starts Aemon who was Jon Snow in this lifetime.

"And forever," Visenya—who was in his past lives Jon Snow—finishes.

With the wind that blows as it ruffles their cloak hair playfully, thrilled smiles are shared as they set off with a gallop on their horses forward.

Remembering one last thing, Visenya pulls her reigns into a stop, raising her right arm above and concentrates. Hearing the sputter of gasps like Arya, Robb and Bran are just  _directly_ behind them, while her brother is goggling-eyed. Her dragons, sweep past them and ascends back to the skies above with roars that is muffled by a rather helpful moaning wind.

Visenya smiles.  _Let the game begins._

* * *

**20.**

"…That was awesome!"

"It was terrifying, Arya!"

"Um, should we tell Father, Robb?"

"Absolutely not! That thing is our secret weapon. Er, weapons?

"…I agree."

_Meanwhile…_

"…one very odd dragons."

"Aren't they terribly beautiful?"

"They sure are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this has been in the backburner which basically I re-wrote for self-gratification and do some fanfic writing exercises after my long hiatus. Advise me if I mistake any ASoIaF terminology. No beta reader so far.


	2. Growing Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys may have survived the pain of loving them, but something from their negligence and indifference broke a part of his heart piece by piece. It made him guarded, harder to deal with, and quicker to anger with the ferocity of an injured dragon.
> 
> And Viserys is not strong enough to forgive or to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Redemption for the mad prince. Because why not?

**21.**

Aerys Targaryen wants a daughter. A daughter he can marry off to his firstborn, the Crown Prince, Rhaegar as Targaryen tradition goes. However, Aerys gets Viserys, and has never forgiven him for being born as a boy.  _(Another son whose value is enough as a spare heir as death claims his other children.)_

Aerys' sisterwife, Rhaella tries to love her son, Viserys even if her second son is so like his father  _(demanding with a ferocious temper)._  Viserys, Rhaella worries, is the polar opposite of her firstborn, Rhaegar who she describes a sleeping dragon. Still, she is Viserys' mother and her wariness ( _why is_ _her_ _son is so alike to his father)_  and disappointed bitterness ( _unlike my perfect, Rhaegar),_  cannot raise a good child she wanted. Rhaella has learned to love Viserys ( _a potential_ _monster would not be one if it is nurtured with love_ _.)_

Rhaegar loves Viserys but his brother's age is still a yawning gap between them. The generation that divides them would never make them brothers-at-arms. ( _Viserys is never meant to be his_ _equal)_. Viserys, Rhaegar could perceive over analytically, can be a threat to his position as Crown Prince of the Iron Throne.

Fortunately, Viserys is not a Blackfyre bastard and with time, Viserys can learn to love him with a love that a younger brother has to an elder brother he looks up to.  _(Rhaegar has plans. Aerys has alienated the other six kingdoms as years goes by._ _No one is_ _allowed to ruin this for him._ _)_

They are wrong.

* * *

**22.**

"Little prince, the first lesson you must learn is to know your place."

"That's silly! I am Viserys Targaryen, Third of My Name, son of Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen, and Rhaegar's little dragon of a brother. The second prince and heir to the Iron Throne of Westoros."

"That is indeed correct. You are the second prince, the spare if some ill luck befalls upon the Silver Prince."

"…Um, what is a spare, maester?"

"For a second prince like you, young Viserys, it is your duty to support your elder brother, Rhaegar so that he won't fail to be a good king, and if he fails to do so, you may take his place when it is necessary for the greater good of the Targaryen kingdom."

"I don't want to. Grownups are boring. Even big brother, Rhaegar won't even play with me."

"Your big brother has big hopes to fulfil, little prince."

"Like making Lord Father's scary face? Big brother doesn't like doing it."

Viserys is only answered by cough.

* * *

**23.**

Viserys clings to Rhaegar tightly. "Why do you have to go, big brother?"  _(_ _Who will protect us?)_

"It is tradition for royalty and noble children to be fostered among a chosen Noble House in order to know his or her own people."

Viserys is confused. "But you already learned from the maesters and your readings!"

Rhaegar smiles a little. "But actual experience is an adventure itself, Viserys. And it is my duty as the Crown Prince to strengthen the bonds of the kingdom and fostering is away to accomplish that goal." He continues before Viserys could say anything else, "As for you, be good, little dragon, and make our Lady Mother happy."

 _It is you who makes her happier._  Viserys pouts but agrees to Rhaegar's request while glaring at Jon Connington who looks too happy for some reason.

 _Big brother also looks happy to be away from_ _home,_ Viserys observes.

* * *

**24.**

" _Be good, little dragon, and make our Lady Mother happy."_

It is a request Viserys has taken very seriously.

Viserys has tried to make her smile, but Lady mother is always happier with Rhaegar within an arm's reach. Even his Lord Father is getting grumpier as days passed by without Rhaegar around.

 _Things in the castle seems to be stifling with big brother gone as everyone except his Lord Father appears to be walking on eggshells_ _,_  Viserys observes.  _It's like big brother has taken away the good happy feelings with him._

With a decisive nod, Viserys veers away from the dining hall and ventures to his Lady Mother, figuring out to cheer her up again. Three footsteps away, he hears a faint voice. Then he hears another voice, Lord Father's. Absentmindedly, Viserys notes the two kingsguards who both look unhappy staying right by the sides of the door.

One waves Viserys to go away. He stares them down, regarding them coldly.  _He is a prince not some servant!_

Another closer step and he can hear both voices are arguing, the faint voice comes from his Lady Mother. Fear begins to seize him. He has seen that it is not good for Lady Mother to be so closed to his Lord Father.

He soon has learned that his Lord Father's attention is very bad thing to have, remembering the bruises on his Lady Mother's face after having a talk with Lord Father (the first time he has seen her wore a messy dress gown). Both scream at him to get lost before something painful—

A sharp sound of something hitting something hard, makes Viserys to flinch back and sees the kingsguards' faces look disgusted as they shook their heads firmly in warning him to better go away.

The one who wove him away, steps forward. Hands reaching to grab him.

With one last look, Viserys quickly dashes out. The last he hears, are his Lady Mother's choked screams.

 _You big coward,_  Viserys tells himself as fear shakes him.  _Big brother will be disappointed._

* * *

**25.**

Moons come and go.

Lady Mother goes to her 'happy place', and she won't come out until after days have passed by.

Viserys wonders why she always looks tired, and would often excuse herself when he's there with her for playtime.

And her smiles feel funny.

* * *

**26.**

One time, Viserys burst out, "W-Why do you even stay with him? Y-you're not happy! I don't remember you smiling at him. And you only smiles more when b-big brother—"

"Well, love is insanity. It is the taking over of a rational and lucid mind by delusion and self-destruction. You lose yourself, you have no power over yourself, you can't even think straight," Mother explains airily, eyes not looking at him.

...What?

"Mother—"

"Go, Viserys."

Rhaella Targaryen is a dragon queen, people claims.

Viserys stares at her like she has never been a dragon.

* * *

**27.**

" _Big brother, Rhaegar, when will you be home?_

_I don't know what to do and I'm scared…"_

* * *

**28.**

Viserys has a memory he remembered at heart. For it is the moment that someone tried to kill him.

That day, he is so tired after a trying day of learning to write his letters so that big brother Rhaegar can come back home from his foster family early.

Asking the maester for advise, Viserys is told to start learning the letters earlier so he can make Lady Mother and Lord Father proud of him which will make them happy and for big brother to know what Visery is doing to make their Lady Mother happy.

After days of learning how to write, every night Viserys falls asleep right after supper.

But Viserys jolts awake, thrashing wildly when he feels that he can't breathe because there's something soft but too solid covering his face and slowly suffocating him.

 _A pillow_ _,_  Viserys realizes with increasing fear as he can't breathe. He blacks out but not before hearing a scream and the trampling force swiftly is pulled back from him.

When he wakes up, he panics thrashing wildly with a cry. His mother right beside him immediately comforts Viserys.

"Shush, little dragon."

Sniffling, Viserys searches for his father. He finds him together with the maester and several guards.

"—attack in the House Connington nearly succeeded! A challenge that they could do far worst for the Crown Prince, my king."

"Send words to the House Connington that my heir is to be returned in King's Landing at once. It is time for him to have an heir."

"Yes, your Highness."

"Viserys is your only spare heir, my king. He has to survive for the kingdom's sake."

"From now on, both Rhaegar's and Viserys' lessons as princes of the Iron will be more extensive and comprehensive."

"By your will, Sire."

Viserys has a very bad feeling from what he hears.

He is not wrong.

* * *

**29.**

Big brother is home and he is getting married to Elia Martell. Everyone seems happy except for Cersei Lannister who looks likes she is sucking a very sour lemon and Jon Connington who eyes Elia with dislike.

Viserys only wonders if it means Rhaegar would have no time for him.

A fully busy Rhaegar certainly happens.

His big brother is now a father to Rhaenys Targaryen

Viserys wonders if Rhaegar would soon become like their father. The servants secretly whisper how happy their mother was during the early years of her marriage.

Viserys wonders if Elia Targaryen would become like mother.

* * *

**30.**

After the whirling frenzy of Rhaenys first nameday celebration, Viserys is back to his classes. And finds out that too much learning is not fun.

" _At your age, Prince Rhaegar has done_ better _."_

The lessons do not make him happy. It builds his  _resentment-dislike-doubts-insecurities_ that his love for Rhaegar could only cover a little. But Viserys understands that it is not his big brother's fault that others can't see him. People see what they wanted to see.  _(And no one wanted him.)_

Longer sessions in the library has a big brother that has no time for him.

 _"_ Not _now, little dragon."_

Understanding social etiquette means he needs to grow up.

_"Viserys is still a child, give him time."_

The strain of the lessons makes Viserys's temper more volatile.

 _"Your brother can endure it so why_ can't  _you?"_

Viserys tells them he's sick of it. He tells them he wants to go outside and play. He tells them being a dragon means having wings to stay free. He tells them Rhaegar is the best because he has to be. But he tells them that it does not doesn't make his brother a dragon if he has to always say yes. He tells them Rhaegar is too good for the rest of them. He tells them Rhaegar would make the Targaryen name far greater than Lord Father will ever would. He tells them that Rhaegar is the people's chosen king. He tells them—

Aerys' heirloom ring splits his lip and Viserys tastes blood thick and heavy in his mouth and nose.

Too stunned, Viserys stares at Aerys who sneers at him.

"That's why you are just a spare who will never amount to match as an equal to your elder brother," Aerys spat furiously.

Viserys blinks his eyes from this blow. He knows it's true but they still  _hurts_.

But it  _hurts more_  when, Viserys observes that both Rhaella (mother would rather stay silent to hide from father's attention) and Rhaegar (big brother could only offer help after father has turn his back) have not disagree with Aerys' words.

The servants (who cannot do a thing when the king disproves) and guards (who train hard to protect the royal family but obeys only to the king) are only seen but not heard.

Viserys stands in their midst, trembling and keeping his tears at bay. Dragon's don't cry in front of any predator even if its heart is being charred by its own heat.

He can cry later by himself  _(like always)._

* * *

**31.**

And things get worst.

* * *

**32.**

There are whispers secretly hidden from the king.

" _A seed is growing strong inside the queen mother."_

" _A valuable gift most considered as a boon, but to her, it was nothing more but another burden."_

_"She could get rid of the growing seed inside her womb."_

" _Yes, it is the most decent thing to do. Sparing an innocent soul from the mad king."_

" _But she chose not to."_

Viserys listens and understands.

Viserys watches as the seed grows and grows with mother's painstaking love and devotion.

Viserys wonders if mother loves the seed as much as she loves him.

Viserys notices the delighted glow around mother.

Viserys sees how Elia Martell hungrily looks at mother while looking at her tummy.

Viserys looks on how Rhaenys is happier to find out that there is another two babes coming.

But Viserys observes father and brother more as both seems they can't simply wait for something to happen.

He fears for whatever it is that has both caught with untold satisfaction.

* * *

**33.**

"The Prince has gone mad!" One of the kitchen maids, whispered quietly. "The guards said—"

Viserys pulls up short.  _Me? Mad?_

"He's a fool madly in love with the wolf-maid."

Viserys is mystified. He did not meet any wolf-maid of sorts.

"Ah, young love–"

"It's forbidden."

Viserys leans closer only to be startle by a loud bellow.

"Prince Viserys! The king is looking for you.

Fear punches him as Viserys comply to the king's summon.

* * *

**34.**

"Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name, is hereby declared as Prince of Dragonstone, and since you are not of age yet, the Queen Mother, Rhaella Targaryen is the regent in your stead. Furthermore, both are to dwell in Dragonstone until summon back by the king himself."

* * *

**35.**

"I don't want to go!" Viserys screeches out.

"You must," Mother orders. "This is how we can be safe, little dragon."

"This is because of the wolf-maid the servants are whispering about, isn't it?!"

"Viserys—"

"I know it is! She stole Rhaegar away and Father's sending us away because he burned the North lords to death as punishment for her!" he snaps. "A ferocious storm is rampaging and old grudges will tear the kingdoms apart! Big brother should have known better than this!"

"At least the lessons has showed merit," Mother comments idly.

Viserys did not understand but sees that she looks…happy?

"I would have done the same given the chance again," Mother whispers thoughtfully.

Her strange calm makes Viserys to spontaneously combust. "Mother!"

"That's enough, Viserys."

Just like that, Mother busies herself in preparing their things and Viserys is once again forgotten.

* * *

**36.**

Father never cares.

Mother is there but she loves Rhaegar more.

And Rhaegar also has abandoned him.

 _I'm never first_ , Viserys thinks as something shatters in him once more.

* * *

**37.**

He sulks, ignoring everything.

He ignores the hustle within and out Dragonstone.

He ignores the quiet joy as another Aegon, son of Elia is born in Kings Landing.

He ignores the stranger his mother became.

He spends his days locked inside the big library of, ignoring the inevitable end of the war that waged within Westeros.

* * *

**38.**

One day, he finds something:

 _"_ _I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love above all. No... not the artful postures of love, not playful and poetical games of love for the amusement of an evening, but love that... overthrows life. Unbiddable, ungovernable - like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture,"_  Viserys reads out loud with irritated incredulity, wondering if the words would give explanation to his brother's sudden madness.

Then suddenly, he feels sick.

Above Dragonstone, ominous clouds gathers.

* * *

**39.**

There is an explosion of a healthy wail coming from the newborn.

The siege of Dragonstone is also going on at the same time.

Viserys eyes are glued at the baby's fluffy hair matted with unsavoury fluids. She is adorable with pink cheeks standing out from the luminescent, alabaster skin and puckered little rosebud lips. Her eyes flutters open to reveal warm violet eyes.

His gut twists in pity, seeing their mother growing weaker and weaker by each moment.

A dull sound echoes in the castles walls made by the battering hams of Stannis Baratheon's force.

He wonders if this is the day his sister will also die without mother to care for her.

There is a clamor of triumph as the Baratheon soldiers makes their way for the dragon queen's chambers. _(The sound reminds him of the unjust murder of his niece, Rhaeneys, his nephew, Aegon, and the rape of his goodsister, Elia that pave a bloody path for the Usurper's claim to the Iron Throne.)_

He wonders if mother will have to choose who to save between them.

_(Was Princess Elia given a choice?)_

"You must take care of her, Viserys."

The sick feeling is back again.

Mother already did choose who to save.

* * *

**40.**

The air is distinctly chill.

Viserys' heart pounds. He can't breathe. For their lives is at end.

"My Lady," Stannis Baratheon nods, voice curt. "Prince Viserys."

"I named you, Daenerys," the mother murmurs faintly, disregarding a nervous Viserys and anyone else but her newborn daughter. "I imagine you will be a wonderful princess with a boundless spirit that will give love generously but fiercely. Just like any other female dragons. I just hope you can live a happy life, Daenerys Stormborn—" she pauses with a hollow chuckle and then stares at Baratheon with an eerie calm.

What follows next surprises Viserys.

"Are you here to kill us all, cousin Stannis Baratheon? Like your Usurper brother who paves his way with the rape of Princess Elia and murder of my helpless innocent grandchildren!" Mother speaks each word quietly and evenly, but it might as well be like a thunder that shook her chambers when Stannis Baratheon visibly flinches as if he is struck down by an invisible force.

"I hope you are very satisfied, cousin Stannis. The appreciation from the Usurper alone would make you his brother-at-arms right next to Eddard Stark."

What exactly it is that mother sees at the Baratheon, makes the man to bristle indignantly. "I am nothing like him."

Mother stares and stares intently at Baratheon before she speaks in a knowing voice. "A second son not bright enough to overshadow the firstborn, fate truly works in a strange way as it seems you and Viserys are kindred spirits."

"Mother—"

"You—l

"Take me and spare my innocent children, cousin Stannis. I humbly ask this of you in the name of your late mother who was my very dear friend," Mother says brazenly, stopping their protests at once.

Baratheon looks ready to murder them in cold blood by that order, before he stills with a grimace and calls out a name, "Ser Davos."

Ser Davos walks in and glances at them before nodding at Baratheon. "My Lord?"

"Smuggle the children away with the last of the kingsguard to the Free Cities," Baratheo orders impassively. "With your discretion."

Ser Davos nods, glancing at them.

"Mother—"

"You have done well, little dragon."

Hearing the worn-out voice from mother as if the ferocious fire has gone out of her, a stunned Viserys complies but give a vow to to Baratheon. "I will remember the mercy you have dealt with me and my sister, cousin Stannis."

Baratheon seems to take his vow seriously because he nods gravely to him.

The last Viserys he sees of his mother, Rhaella Targaryen is the proud look in her face as she watches them leaves.

(Many years later, looking back at that moment, Viserys realizes that he still loves her, and it's a complicated sort of comfort. They are gone, but he still loves them as much as he can hate them.)

* * *

**41.**

He may have survived the pain of loving them, but something from their negligence and indifference broke a part of his heart piece by piece. It made him guarded, harder to deal with, and quicker to anger with the all the violent ferocity of an injured dragon's desperation.

And Viserys is not strong enough to forgive or to forget.

(In another world:

Lost in madness, Viserys will find any fault and insult that offended him so he could burn them all and spread despair until someone puts him out of misery for good.

 _It could have happened that way_.)

However, Viserys' fate diverges as Visenya bloody Ice Princess happens and drags him out from his misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viserys III Targaryen is a mere footnote compared to Daenerys. But he's a character that made Dany to become a dragon queen. It was a trying time for doing the shots of character development with Viserys III Targaryen. And he gives this lasting impression of a violent snooty and prissy prat. But it is sweet success for this divergence to be fulfilled ;D
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks. Would love to here from your comments.
> 
> Quotes used:  
> "Well, love is insanity. The ancient Greeks knew that. It is the taking over of a rational and lucid mind by delusion and self-destruction. You lose yourself, you have no power over yourself, you can’t even think straight." — Marilyn French
> 
> “I will have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love. Love above all. No... not the artful postures of love, not playful and poetical games of love for the amusement of an evening, but love that... overthrows life. Unbiddable, ungovernable - like a riot in the heart, and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture.” — William Shakespear


	3. Growing Strong II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Westeros did not see how cunningly crafty and immovably obstinate Daenarys and Viserys grow up to be.  
> Westeros did not comprehend how dogged loyalty triumphs over honor and pride.  
> Westeros did not have the awareness how hazardously threatening the scorned dragons have become as life made them to be.  
> And Westeros and the Free Cities have no idea that winter is coming with fire and blood.

_In every world, there are events that are fixed and sure to happen in time, inevitable so to speak. However, there are times when the causes of those events vary greatly because of one small action that makes ripples that canmake significant changes._

* * *

**42.**

_When things did begin to spiral out of control?_

A lone knight looks forward.  _(He can't look back. If he did, he might turn back and lost himself tohelpless rage of vengeance for his brothers, his family, and his home.)_

He is called Ser Willem Darry, a knight from House Darry who served as the Red Keep's masterat- arms for King Aerys II Targaryen. He is a grey bear of a man who is half-blind. He had a gruff, kind voice and big wrinkled hands, soft as old leather. (Before people believed Willem had gotten his position not by his own merit as they whispered, 'So even if Ser Willem Darry is a disabled man, he is the brother of Ser Jonothor Darry of the Kingsguard'. Willem kept his mouth shut and let them wonder.

For him, thinking and talking might bridge idiocy and awareness, and personally, he fancied himself as a humble knight who is only prideful of his legacy. Like Prince Rhaegar whom he taught to become a proper knight.

_(And many years later, with their words tattooed inked into his left shoulder—_ _In Arduis Fidelis,_ _Loyalty in Adversity—Ser Willem Darry who remains staunchly loyal to the Targaryen's_ _during and after Robert Baratheon's Rebellion, could not be more proud of his legacies,_ _the Valyrian_ _Dragon Quartet_ _.)_

Gut twisting at the path that awaits them in the Free Cities, Willem pities the last two Targaryens who are both innocent and helpless children. For no one deserves to be condemned because of the accursed blood that ran through their veins. Willem would not put it past by the Usurper King to spare the dragon spawns, Robert Baratheon's own cousins. The man must have whacked himself harder with a sledgehammer to forget that fact. For why would the traitors to the Targaryen Crown would follow a Baratheon if he has no royal dragon's blood in him?

Willem would give the Usurper a decade to go batshit insane as he is not blind to see the symptoms of delusional and unreasonable behaviour that lie its way to madness. Willen has seen it up close and personal in Aerys.

That's why it is with horrified disbelief to see the madness from Rhaegar's hare-brained scheme to spirit Lady Lyanna Stark away and damn everyone to suffer the consequences.  _(He might be Rhaegar's mentor before the Prince became a knight but Willem has no business to interfere with the Prince's affairs no matter how selfish the choice would be.)_

Heartsinking from grief, anger, and regret, Willem thinks that Rhaegar was no better than the Mad Kingfor allowing the world to corrupt him.  _(_ _It's easier to blame Rhaegar for how can he defend himself now that he is dead?)_

A choke cry wakes Willem from his contemplation. It is then that he sees the feverish look in Viserys' eyes. Eyes like Aerys had before he became the Mad King that fear that does not make any sense fills Willem. The seeds are planted already. The boy is locked inside a gilded cage of duty (as a spare) just simply because Queen Rhaella has no choice left but Viserys.

_Would Viserys and Daenerys be any different from the other Targaryens?_

Aerys has lost himself. Rhaella has been stumbling for a dream she wish is real. Rhaegar has gone mad in love. Viserys and Daenerys are abandoned and left to be hunted down.

Willem remembers that,

" _Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land."_

It's so easy to walk away than to stay and wait for the shoe to drop.

But that wasn't who Ser Willem Darry is _. (_ _Willem isn't sure he could do this being removed from everything he used to know_ _but—)_

Willem is a guardian now. Fighting for them. For himself. For their future.

And Willem will do what he can not to shun the two at the first sign of weakness.

* * *

**43.**

Moons pass by.

Twelve moons since Viserys has lost the only blood family he had ever known.

His Lady Mother may not have been the best one in the world, and Viserys may have resented her for choosing to abandon them and condemn them and order Dany's safety as Viserys' duty but there is still this big, yawning hollow in his chest.

There are only two Targaryens left.

Viserys curls in his new unfamiliar bed, wrinkling his nose at the odd smell of spices and what else.

* * *

**44.**

Willem never knew that he has made the best and worst mistake of his life. Who knew that rearing a baby is a slow, torturous, pain in the ears?

The baby, Daenerys Stormborn is very beautiful and cute while sleeping. But all that adorableness is gone now that her crying is beginning to grate his ears once again.

 _What is this some sort of screaming competition?_  Willem thinks with a grimace.

As if baby Dany read his thoughts, she just did that much to both Willem's and Viserys poor ears.

* * *

**45.**

The horror of cleaning up baby poo or goo and nappy change is best not mentioned. Ever. In hindsight, taking care of a baby makes Willem more appreciative of mothers and women in general.

And to think according to whispers across the sea, the Usurper's firstborn son is way worst than Miss Dany.

 _There is justice_ , Willem crows vindictively making the three namedays Daenarys looks up in surprise.

* * *

**46.**

Curling on one of the couches on his nap, young Viserys' face scrunches into a grimace. He does not scream when he has nightmares. He goes restlessly conscious then fully awake with too old hard eyes which take his surrounding in with a full sweep. He relaxes, comforted by the familiar surroundings.

Willem silently observes this with a heavy heart.  _(In moments like this, righteous anger simmers in him, a child should not have grown up with fear.)_ He does not know do what to do with young Viserys.

And it is obvious Viserys does not know what to do with Willem either.

But maybe Willem should be content that Viserys drives himself like a sponge that soaks all his lessons in the sitting room, leaving Willem and miss Dany alone most of the time.

Also maybe Willem must be thankful young Viserys is not that little terror of demanding headstrong brat of a prince that ran out his minders' patience.

* * *

**47.**

Viserys is quiet and keeps to himself, fusses little, and generally prefers to be left alone most of the time. He has learned too young that people likes him when he's useful like that time when the garrison of Dragonstone considered selling Viserys and the unborn Daenerys, to the new Usurper king, Robert I Baratheon.

Viserys is being useful, staying out of Ser Willem's way in return for the food and shelter.

 _The knight has enough trouble with Dany after all,_  Viserys observes as Dany burps and spits out a white thing into Ser Willems beard.

Viserys chokes down his laughter. No knight wants to be caught in such a ridiculous moment after all.

* * *

**48.**

Miss Dany takes Willem's time. Most of it.

However, Willem is able to divide his time between the Targaryen siblings and his work as a barkeeper and weapon smith. He has his hands full, but he didn't regret it.

Both siblings are becoming gorgeous children day by day, and he does not want to miss a single moment of their childhood.

And Willem is also relieved to see smiles blooming reluctantly in young Viserys' face.

* * *

**49.**

Dany is a bright little girl.

Dany is a child prodigy as big brother Viserys says.

("You're like Rhaegar," Viserys smiles a little.

Dany wonders why it seems to hurt Viserys to say so.)

Meaning, Daenarys Strormborn in all of her four namedays old glory definitely didn't want to listen to her tutors yammer more than it is absolutely necessary while scowling at her twitching left hand which suffers from completing all the required writing notes of their lecture.

She prefers reading and letting her imagination run wild. When the lesson is done, she all but fly to the library with a victorious cackling.

_"You ruin your life by desensitizing yourself. We are all afraid to say too much, to feel too deeply, to let people know what they mean to us. Caring is not synonymous with crazy. Expressing to someone how special they are to you will make you vulnerable. There is no denying that. However, that is nothing to be ashamed of. There is something breathtakingly beautiful in the moments of smaller magic that occur when you strip down and are honest with those who are important to you. Let that girl know that she inspires you. Tell your mother you love her in front of_

_your friends. Express, express, express. Open yourself up, do not harden yourself to the world, and be bold in who, and how you love. There is courage in that."_

Dany's eyes grow wide as she read each word and makes it her personal mission to hug Ser Willem and big brother as she has to.

* * *

**50.**

Viserys is ambushed by a cackling silver dragon that nearly made him to land on his rear end.

"Daenerys Stormborn!"

"I love you, big brother Visy."

Viserys blinks down at her.

And Dany begins to chatter his ears off like usual.

* * *

**51.**

Upon his arrival from work that night, Willem experiences the same cackling dragon ambush.

* * *

**52.**

"One day you must tell me all. The good and bad about father."

There is tension in the room. At the back door, Viserys wonders if Dany recognizes that as Ser Willem glances around searching for Viserys who made himself scarce out of their sight at night during bedtime stories. Dany always wants to know and hear about their broken family, clinging to the stories with curious enthusiasm that they had once existed outside her imagination and legends. His sister however, has not live through that.

 _It surely would disappoint and hurt her like him if she lived with it._  Viserys thinks with bitterness.

"You are the last of the dragons to come to life, miss Dany. So you would learn your families' rising, their stumbles, and their sins."

Viserys leans in. Those words are way different from what he used to hear. Then again back before people want to get in the Targaryens' good graces.

"There is, your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother... and Rhaegar. Him most of all."

"I wish I could have known him."

"The battle screamed about Lord Robert and Prince Rhaegar both, and by the will of the gods, or by chance-or perhaps by design-they met amidst the shallows of the ford. The two knights fought valiantly upon their destriers, according to all accounts. For despite his crimes, Prince Rhaegar was no coward.

Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died."

"That's so sad…"

Viserys' jaw clenches. He loves Rhaegar. Loves him deeply, fully, because they are of same blood and brothers and there are some things you just can't escape, but—

He clearly remembers what it was like before, and understands what led his family to where they are now. He and Dany abandoned and banished to be hunted down and are only protected by Ser Willem and the hired guards. Even the Iron Bank wants nothing to do with them.

How come there are no accounts for him and Dany to claim? Then again it's not like Aerys has earn any good father award before. But their mother could have spare some time to prepare some money.  _(Viserys carries this knowledge like a weight in his chest and a fury in his veins like it is the air he breathe.)_

He has never forgotten and he will never forgive.

* * *

**53.**

"No."

"I don't think you understand—"

"I understand that you want to buy Daenerys like some fine breed broodmare for anyone who can pay the price."

"We don't hurt little girls in Dorne."

"Clearly, you don't give a damn for innocent little boys if your plans regarding young Viserys to become a pig for slaughter against the Usurper are better."

"The remaining Targaryen must do their part. They owe Dorne too much."

"…You're no different from that brute Clegane and those lions, viper."

Tension rises.

"My apologies, Prince Oberyn."

"You won't change your mind."

"All I want for the siblings is to have a safe childhood. And when they want an in to the game, they would have to decide when they are of suitable age."

"We're done here for now. Let's go."

With fear that does not make any sense, Willem watches Prince Oberyn and the Sealord leave.

(In most worlds, Willem was visited by Prince Oberyn Martell and together, with the Sealord of Braavos as witness, they signed a pact promising that Viserys Targaryen would one day wed Princess Arianne Martell in return for the support of Dorne in winning Viserys the Iron Throne.)

* * *

**54.**

Bags after bags are loaded on the boat. Instinctively, both Dany and Viserys know that only what they needed were inside. Others would be sold out. They always pack light, always on the move to a new place, new neighbours if any, and new acquaintances.

At the last note, Dany frowns. Acquaintance. Not friend. She would be very lucky if she has even one nearby. But connections like that lasted only if they stay long enough. Which is always never.

No matter, at the very least, there are new sights to see and explore. That she could hope.

* * *

**55.**

Willem counts the coins left worriedly.

The charge for the rent takes most of their monies.

In every purchase he did, the pouch is gradually decreasing its weight to zero.

Suddenly, Willem is caught off guard by a wheeze. Clearing his throat by coughing again he is unmindful of the spray of red, his mind is looking for a solution.

* * *

**56.**

Willem is tired. So very tired, and if he didn't have these things to keep him going, he thought he might just lie down and not get up.

Sometimes the only thing that kept him going is the loyalty he still had for the Targaryens. Sometimes it is Daenerys who learns to manage the monies and household affairs like no one else's business, so like Rhaella before Aerys stumped her fire out. Sometimes it is Viserys who has Willem panicking of how to comfort him from the night terrors, and has Daenerys perplexed at the door if she can help only for day to come like Viserys did not wet the bed and Willem's shirt. Sometimes it is the stubborn pride of not giving the Usurper King who has sent assassins the satisfaction of having Willem out cold and dead to finally annihilate the Targaryens once and for all.

Often it is Willem's determined desire to see these younger innocent Targeryen, both Daenerys and Viserys alive and well and free and flourishing.

Willem vehemently refuses to give up.

* * *

**57.**

Cold. Crimson. Blood.

It is everywhere.

A fizz of fear strikes Viserys as he stares at the bloody puddle in trance. At the background, Dany is frozen in horror.

* * *

**58.**

The lost coin is paid to the healer who checks Sir Willem. When they learned about it, the knight and his charges are thrown into the streets by the servants of the house with red door.

That same day, the Targaryen siblings have learned that people only give their services as long as they give something in return.

* * *

**59.**

The next day, both Dany and Viserys learn what it is to be hungry and unable to fill their hunger. The last of the food supply they have is spared for Sir Willem who is slowly wasting away, leaving them to their own devices.

Outside the sanctuary made by two sacks as shelter for the heat, two pale dragons ventures out from its safety.

People stares and points.

The siblings feel condemned and attacked within that moment.

* * *

**60.**

At first, Dany and Viserys drop by into their tutors' homes for eggs and bacon until that become too embarrassing for them.

Then they dig through a dumpster to find something to eat. They get lucky and find a whole loaf of burnt bread someone has thrown out. They share it with Ser Willem who cries for them.

* * *

**61.**

"I will be brave," Dany whispers. Her words are loud at night when most is silent. By the time she wakes up in the morning, her tear-streaked face would have dried up.

"They will pay for this with fire and blood." Is Viserys' mantra.

"Don't give them the satisfaction in surrendering, my dragons," Ser Willem orders sternly as much as the strength of saying the words cost him a round of bloody coughing each morning.

This is how their day would always start. They give themselves a leg to stand steady. Each one holding on as if it is a shameful disservice to each others' sacrifices to give up.

And it is good they have each other. For it means they have each other.

They are not alone.

They have each other.

* * *

**62.**

Life's bitter lessons hit hard all too often for the Targaryen siblings. They left shame and pride sooner as they learn how to run, how to hide, how to beg, how to steal, how to scavenge for food, how to endure through the unforgiving weather.

They both soon learn that they are terrible at hiding behind shadows to avoid the attentions of leering men and slavers. Their silver hair is like a beacon that makes them stand out far too much with their good looks, so they cut their hair and smudge it and their face with oily dust that turn into mud.

Sir Willem's pale sickly gaunt face makes it so that if the siblings don't find better ways, they would starve to death. Knocking on death's doorstep once is too many.

* * *

**63.**

What the Iron Throne in Westeros hears is this:

_"Words are wind, and the wind that blows exiles across the narrow sea seldom blows them back. That boy Viserys Targaryen spoke of return as well. He slipped through my fingers at Dragonstone, only to spend his life wheedling after sellswords. "The Beggar King," they called him in the Free Cities."_

If the words are distorted by exaggeration that flutters certain heartless persons, that is no one else's business but the messenger.

* * *

**64.**

Westeros did not see how cunningly crafty and immovably obstinate Daenerys and Viserys grow up to be.

Westeros did not comprehend how dogged loyalty tramps over honor and pride.

Westeros did not have the awareness how hazardously threatening the scorned dragons has become as life made them to be.

* * *

**65.**

Dany runs with the wind like the hounds of hell themselves are sniping on her heels, laughing hysterically at the play of words she never thought she would personally experience. Literally.

She breaks her right ankle that same day.

* * *

**66.**

_"She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible._

_She walked with the Universe on her shoulders and made it look like a pair of wings,"_  Dany recites in her sleep quietly.

Viserys is somehow reminded of their mother by those words. No wonder she wants to escape.

Viserys learns that there is boldness and strength in courage that endures life's miseries.

* * *

**67.**

Then of course as if it is not enough, their luck veers off to bad luck. Some group of men manages to corner him and Dany in the back alley.

On any other day, Viserys could outrun them but not with Dany strapped to his back since her idiocy cost her a broken ankle. Viserys can fight them off, but Dany's weight is a handicap again.

(Why did he have to be stuck with her again?

Right. Duty.)

Viserys must have been hampered by hunger if he thinks that he recognizes a few of the men he has seen them before, has known them once. They are—

"We should be able to fetch a pretty penny for these two," the bearded man says, staring at Dany with amusement. "I bet they'll pay plenty for the girl."

Of course. Another of those pimps or slavers. Scums all of them.

Dany whimpers. Viserys know then that they are going to die. Dany hates to cry or play the pitiful child. And just when he's certain they'll be beaten to death, someone drops down from above and lands on top of the ringleader. The man goes down with a sickening crunch.

Caught in surprise, they stand still before the stranger. It is a girl.

"Old coots, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" the girl recommends as if she did not break an older man's bones with her weight that should be lighter than the man.

The most ridiculous thing was the men's collective response is to recoil away from her.

Only one remains to stay but Viserys could see how the man wants to desperately get away from her sight.

"This is none of your business, Ice Princess."

Viserys did not know why the words make the girl furious, but what follows next is a terrifying unexplainable one-sided beat-down he has ever witness that leaves a blood-spattered mess howling with agony.

As black spots dance in his sight, Viserys last thoughts are, "She's a beautiful disaster."

* * *

**68.**

His flee-to-survive instincts have Viserys waking up with a start, pitching himself out of the bed to make a run for it. Abruptly, he falters. Not a less bit disoriented from light-headedness, he stumbles back on the bed ( _the very first soft thing he touch in years)_ , clutching the bed sheets as if they could fortify him with necessary strength.

"I hope you don't always wake up like," A voice dryly comments several feet away from him.

Instantly, the unfamiliarity of the voice makes Viserys to freeze. He turns. The prettiest shade of dark purple eyes that he ever saw in his life calmly scrutinizes him while lounging from the large sliding windows cushion seats.

"Good morning."

Viserys takes the other with cautious, measuring eyes. The girl appears quite harmless. He knows though that first impression could be blindingly deceptive in his personal experience.

"W-What happened?" there, it is a good start as any. "Who are you?"

"Your manners are disappointingly deficient for such a highly acclaimed dragon prince." The tone is of flippant criticism which successfully boils Viserys' hardly restrained temper.

To add insult to injury, the girl makes a show of sniffing him out. "You stink." Is the rude judgement. The girl juts her chin at the door by the left. "Bathroom is that

way."

Viserys finds himself gritting his teeth in controlled anger as he stalks carefully away from the infuriating girl that could compete his sister as a pain in the neck. Speaking of sister—

"Where is—"

"Daenerys is in the kitchen and Ser Willem is recovering."

"What?!"

The girl looks very amused and turns to leave. "You should learn to sort out your priorities, my prince."

And with that she leaves.

* * *

**69.**

All the terrifying girl leaves them is a letter.

Sharing a glance, Dany and Viserys opens the letter, waiting for the inevitable conditions to be issued by their captor.

 _You have been sleeping far too long for us to talk. This lighthouse is located in Valyria_.

"That's impossible. Everyone knows Valyria is nothing but ruins."

"Maybe she's just crazy."

As one in disbelief, Dany and Viserys move closer to the large, sliding windows that is covered by thick crimson curtains, they part them and slid the closed windows to open only to gape at the breathtakingly tranquil never endless blue shrouded by wispy mists, creating a haunting, serene beauty.

The gentle whisper of the air bides them to relax unintentionally. With no little awed wonder, they look down, mind quickly calculating how high they are above the ground.

On a cliff.

Or rather, as Dany peers at the other islands, the lighthouse stands steadfastly on a little island. It is a magnificent, idyllic setting that could certainly fit a fantastical place.

_(A part of Dany morbidly muses if they are marooned in this place.)_

Returning their attention back on the paper, what they read next makes a mixed of emotions within them.

_You three conked out for five days. Three of those spent in washing out the poison from your blood. Two were spent by sleeping off. The healer declared you all fine by the fifth day. Food supply is already restocked in the 2nd floor down. There is a boat, by the pier. Clean up any mess you made_

Both have frozen solid by then, understanding the instructions.

...This is the oddest arrangement to encounter for a would-be-captive scenario.

_Do whatever you want as long as the entire lighthouse and the islands remain safely intact. That is, if you choose to stay. If you wish to leave, you are free to go after locking the door._

_My twin brother, Aemon will accommodate you. Other rides are by the pier for sea-worthy vessel._

The fairly generous treatment they receive is somehow...refreshingly candid. Something Dany and Viserys did not know how they should feel about it.

_I will see you when I see you._

— _V_

Both could not decide whether to feel elated by the fact that she confirms that they are not captives or to be mildly offended by the stranger's flippant liberty to do whatever she wants with underlying no-strings attach but still profoundly noble to her guests while at it.

Thoughtfully, they peruse the place. It is high-ceiling. The four poster bed made of mahogany has nearly occupied the room with its huge size. Across is a writing desk with a built-in bookshelves. There are no cabinets and closets. Clothing is already arranged inside the spacious bathroom. Right in the middle of the room is a medium size floor-hole enough for three people to use the winding stairs that pass through the floors beneath and above this room.

A movement from the southern curtains draws Dany's attention. She steps forward through the open door which leads to the balcony. This time, flowery blossoms from potted cacti mixes over the salty sea air that whiffed around her. A view of a charming, forest leagues ahead between the blue wide yawn greets her.

_It's too good to be true. Is this a dream?_

"There is another message at the back, Dany." Viserys' words are quietly even. He's incensed.

Alarmed, Dany turns back and reads:

_PS: I am Visenya. I and my twin brother, Aemon are Lyanna Stark's children._

* * *

**70.**

And Westeros and the Free Cities have no idea that winter is coming with fire and blood.

 

* * *

  _"And that is how change happens. One gesture. One person. One moment at a time."_

— Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will go back later for any minor edits. *yawns*
> 
> Excerpts/Quotes used from http://iceandfire.wikia.com and http://awoiaf.westeros.org  
> 1\. He is called Ser Willem Darry, a knight from House Darry who served as the Red Keep's master-at-arms for King Aerys II Targaryen. He remained staunchly loyal to the Targaryen's during and after Robert's Rebellion. He was a grey bear of a man who was half-blind. He had a gruff, kind voice and big wrinkled hands, soft as old leather.  
> 2\. Willem was visited by Prince Oberyn Martell and together, with the Sealord of Braavos as witness, they signed a pact promising that Viserys Targaryen would one day wed Princess Arianne Martell in return for the support of Dorne in winning Viserys the Iron Throne.  
> 3\. “There is, your Grace. Of him, and those who came before him. Your grandfather Jaehaerys and his brother, their father Aegon, your mother... and Rhaegar. Him most of all.”  
> 4\. “I wish I could have known him.”  
> 5\. “The battle screamed about Lord Robert and Prince Rhaegar both, and by the will of the gods, or by chance-or perhaps by design-they met amidst the shallows of the ford. The two knights fought valiantly upon their destriers, according to all accounts. For despite his crimes, Prince Rhaegar was no coward.”  
> 6\. "Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.”  
> 7.“Words are wind, and the wind that blows exiles across the narrow sea seldom blows them back. That boy Viserys Targaryen spoke of return as well. He slipped through my fingers at Dragonstone, only to spend his life wheedling after sellswords. "The Beggar King," they called him in the Free Cities.”
> 
> "You ruin your life by desensitizing yourself. We are all afraid to say too much, to feel too deeply, to let people know what they mean to us. Caring is not synonymous with crazy. Expressing to someone how special they are to you will make you vulnerable. There is no denying that. However, that is nothing to be ashamed of. There is something breathtakingly beautiful in the moments of smaller magic that occur when you strip down and are honest with those who are important to you. Let that girl know that she inspires you. Tell your mother you love her in front of your friends. Express, express, express. Open yourself up, do not harden yourself to the world, and be bold in who, and how you love. There is courage in that." — Bianca Sparacino How To Ruin Your Life (Without Even Noticing That You Are)
> 
> "She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.  
> She walked with the Universe on her shoulders and made it  
> look like a pair of wings." — Ariana Dancu


	4. As High As Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aemon Targaryen has certain standards.
> 
> In his standards, that means killing their would-be killers before those killers could kill them is more than fair. Aemon will be the first in line to kill anyone if it means his sister stays alive (including their dragons). He's fine with it.
> 
> So killing someone who comes to hunt them? Hurt them? Enslave them? Aemon is more than completely fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up! Please GO BACK to CHAPTER 1. I added some dozen drabble shots on it. 
> 
> Might confuse you as to why chapter 4 starts in Valyria.

**71.**

"May I ask where we're going?" Aemon murmurs as his twin Visenya scans the beach and flick her fingers.

_Aemon and Visenya._

It still needs a long moment for him to get used of their original names, and the reputation those names bear.

Honestly, Aemon feels heady and giddy. Who would not?

Aemon and Visenya are both names made great by honour and power.

And there are dragons, too.

Belatedly, the pressure gets to him then.

 _I hope we live up to expectations,_ Aemon broods.

"Valyria," Visenya responds. "We're going to Valyria."

Her answer took time to sink on Aemon.

He does not say this: Valyria is a smoking ruin since the doom.

Which.

Um.

He pauses and takes in Visenya's entirety. Though she seems  _lighter_  these days, her serenity overall unveils her eyes that are  _set ablaze_  in fully realized glory as they pierces right through his as if on a dare to accomplish the most impossible thing.

…Like Visenya will drag Valyria's ruins from mere dust it becomes if she has to.

T-This intensity is... truly frightening to behold.

"Valyria will be great again, brother."

It's a promise. No matter how unattainable it could be.

Aemon has the inkling he just witness one of those moments of greatness that will lead birth to a legend.

* * *

**72.**

"…So how will we travel to reach Valyria. The sea—"

"We'll fly of course."

* * *

**73.**

Aemon's first flying experience is heart poundingly exhilarating.

The rest of the time, he is out cold.

Flying (the altitude) is a thing he must still get used to.

* * *

**74.**

Seen from above, the whole territory of Valyria is a ruin.

 _The bards and the stories are not exaggerating_ , Aemon observes the true extent of the destruction Doom has befallen on the islands and its surrounding waters that look as if they simmer. He could also estimate that no bones can be found but ashes that turn into sandy dust. That is the devastation Doom leaves on its wake.

In his front, Visenya mutters something as they flew lower to one of the majestic cone-shaped volcano that appears to be calm unlike the others that is spewing out hot molten liquid fire.

Aemon feels  _it_ then. The very air is unmistakably trembling, singing, and kissing their pale cheeks in welcome as if making Valyria's pleasure known to them. Aemon did now know a lot but that is what he is feeling right now.

Visenya feels it as well, and she seems… unsurprised.  _Like always._

 _One of these days, I will have to ask the right questions to her,_  Aemon thinks and could not decide whether to demand or to stay speechless from his awe when they finally descends and shakes the ground.

Then a bright flash of light rushes into them.

* * *

**75.**

They finally reach the keystone right after a magical gateway of sorts grabs them.

After insuring they are more than fine and ignoring her speechless brother, Visenya inspects the keystone on the ground where the landed to.

 _Name has power. Blood has power. Magic is a power that is unpredictable. Dragons are Valyria's children,_ she recalls.

So—

"I, Visenya Targaryen, Second of My Name, from House Stark of the North and House Targaryen of Dragonstone from the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and eldest trueborn twin daughter of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Lyanna Stark humbly ask for sanctuary," Visenya announces herself to the chamber's keystone.

There is a pause before Aemon follows through.

"I, Aemon Targaryen, Third of My Name, from House Stark of the North and House Targaryen of Dragonstone from the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and youngest trueborn twin son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Lyanna Stark humbly ask for sanctuary."

Carefully, with a dagger she and Aemon bleed themselves and sprinkle the keystone with their blood.

The keystone turns into dusts.

Aemon gasps.

Her hydra, Angeal, Sephiroth, and Genesis roar.

Then suddenly, the temperature in the chamber rises hotter. A burst of energy surges from the inside like an avalanche. The heat has nearly combusted their body and soul. Visenya hears Aemon screaming. However, something else takes her attention.

The keystone's leftover dusts hover over her. Gulping, she can feel the thrumming power from each pieces of dust that seem to breathe life. Dusts encircle her like they surveying a prey.

" **Finally."**

Visenya blinks and finds herself plunging onto the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

**76.**

Aemon screams, fury mixed with heart-stopping terror, staggering after his fallen twin that's his sister, his  _twin_ , and it feels like a part of him has been ripped away, so it takes him a long,  _long_  moment before he realizes-

…That Visenya is simply asleep.

While Aemon calms his rapidly pounding heart, he watches awestruck as the explosion of magic, light, and noise sings in pleasure.

Amazed, he stares as the keystone transform into a rainbow bejewelled circlet. Its destination is on Visenya's forehead like it chooses her or something.

 _Uh-oh. Visenya is going to hate being chosen as full pledge royalty of Valyria,_  Aemon imagines with a soft grin.

A burst of wave of magic for there is other name to call it resonates, completely distracting Aemon from his twin. Shielding his eyes, he finds himself outside the chambers and stares in rapt at the—there is other word for it—restoration of Valyria from its very ashes.

The ruin cavern is an underground chamber that rebuilt itself with precious jewels and runes.

Grandest towers seem to grow enormously from the earth itself as the forest comes back to life.

Valyria's majestic mountain peaks forms into perfect cones.

Wide roads are paving the way.

Then a sudden explosion from above, makes Aemon to look up gaping.

A colossal glass that seals and surrounds Valyria is being sewn like rainbow threads which shimmer in an immense network of woven magic that cleans off the centuries made by the devastation of the Doom in Valyria.

The waters that surrounds the islands seems to move with joy.

If Valyria was breathtaking before, she is magnificent now as she is made anew like the Doom never happens in the first place.

Mighty and enduring Valyria is alive, singing her immense joy and pleasure.

With numerous unasked and unanswered questions, Aemon feels at peace and content for once.

* * *

**77.**

Aemon is right.

Visenya is  _icily displeased_  finding the keystone turn princess' tiara on her forehead.

Visenya could not get away from said tiara.

Somehow magical—there is no other word for it—tiara finds its ways back to her.

"Someone up there hates me," Vesenya complains to Aemon in all her brooding glory.

Visenya finds no comfort from her hydra as they seem to be far too amused at her expense.

Even as he smirks, Aemon is worried for her.

* * *

**78.**

"I want to know," Aemon tells her one day and stubbornly refuses to budge an inch after his white scaled one-headed red-eyed dragon, named  _Snowfalls_ hatches six nights later. _(Visenya laughs at him for staying true to the Stark naming sense, an unamused Snowfalls sweeps down at her tangling her curls into a big hairy mess)_

"All right." Visenya sighs pensively even as shadows cast on her face. "Be it on your head brother."

She looks more like a very old war veteran who keeps on surviving than anything else.

Aemon stops himself from outrightly cringing.

* * *

**79.**

Visenya answers in monotone.

"I'm an old soul."

Aemon's hands clench breaking his cup, boiling water unfazed him.

"I live and die again and again."

Bile rose from his throat.

"This is my tenth lifetime."

 _Be strong, Aemon._  His jaw tightens, disgusted with his weakness.  _For her._

"I learn to live with death as my consistent companion."

She tells him more.

His utensils snap into pieces.

* * *

**80.**

He burns with rage for her in days.

He broods next.

* * *

**81.**

Aemon has magic.

It turns out to be a very good thing and a very bad thing as learning does not goes smoothly as he thought.

Turns out, he manages it after Visenya, who has been resting for two moons after overusing her magic as conductor to restore Valyria has been kidnapped by the slavers  _(they were sending their letters to Winterfell and having a supply run as they both can't live in fruits and bland meat and fishes alone)_ , and it ends with blood on both their eight namedays' hands.

Later, his magic, Visenya calls it  _accidental magic_  as it only happens during emergency ferociously knocks him down to his feet while it slams the others like a proverbial gigantic sledgehammer.

Whatever force it is, it's frightening. Like he personally rip the kidnappers' souls apart from their bodies.  _(He pukes from the carnage he has done.)_

They are forced to burn the entire village that day and leave without any witnesses alive.

What happens next is their first argument after that.

* * *

**82.**

"Why burn them all, Visenya?!"

"No witnesses  _left alive_ as we are not yet ready against the Faith and its puppets, the Andals those noble knights of Westeros who is in large part  _responsible_  for the death of magic because they  _fear_  and  _hate_  it.  _Innocent children_  are killed faster than you can blink when they see signs of magic. Like the  _accidental_ force you just release. Bloodlines that  _are choked_  until magic bleeds dry from them. The death of the Targaryen dragons, other magical creatures, and the living sigil of the Stark drag to the near extinction. Who knows how much is untold as history always favors the winner?"

She pauses heaving a little before saying quietly, "And I choose us, Aemon."

It's a plea to please understand her.

Aemon tries to understand her.

* * *

**83.**

None of the dragons are tame. None of them are fluffy little sheep.

Angel, Sephiroth and Genesis eat fluffy sheep as appetizers before tearing into a cow.

Aemon feels Snowfalls' viciousness, the hunger when on the hunt, the cold, calculating logic, the sentient draconic thoughts. He had been pulled with his dragon more than once, had felt Snowfalls' hunts in his mind, had been there for the kill, and the malevolence contained because of his bonds with Snowfalls. Familiar bonds work like that.

Even the thought of someone hurting Snowfalls' hide has Aemon's hackles rising into justified anger.

Slowly but surely, Aemon understand and respect Visenya's views.

* * *

**84.**

Their next venture to the Free Cities is to the village the Dothraki plunders ends with another bloodshed and Visenya's blood that makes Aemon to burn those men alive.

(She shields him when he hesitates to deal with the final blow.

She did not even care if she nearly dies.)

" _I learn to live with death as my consistent companion."_

Aemon is filled with guilt and self-loathing on how little he knows.

This is also the beginning of Aemon's full vendetta against the slavers.

* * *

**85.**

Visenya keeps secrets.

It is a fact about her.

A big part of those secrets, Aemon now knows.

And now it leads to this.

His eyes catch a shaking figure underneath the tangle of blankets. Like a pail of glacial ice is dump on him, he stalls by the door frame all at once uncertain to what he is supposed to do in this situation. Give him someone to cut any day than this.

Comforting someone is never his forte. Especially, someone suffering from a nightmare of memories.

Eyeing her dragons warily who curls and croons around Visenya protectively, Aemon can only do it with all his Northman straightforwardness.

"Visenya, wake up!" He calls again loudly. "You need to wake up, Visenya!"

For what seems to be eternity, his twin opens her eyes with a gasp her hair dishevelled matted with sweat, her pale tear-stained face pronounced wildly by the agonizing fear and no small amount of despair in her eyes.

"Visenya?" Aemon asks tentatively. "Are you alright?"

And then grimaces at the stupid question. Her dragons glare at him, too.

He feels more than sees that Visenya shuddering for a moment before she answers. "I will be."

He understands. This is not the first time it happened. Not knowing what to do next, he keeps his silence.

"Thank you, brother." Visenya says making him cringed inwardly.

_How did I help?_

"I'm here if you want a listening ear—" he trails off inwardly berating his words. He knows nothing.

Then, a startled forced laughter comes out from Visenya's lips. "Thank you so much, Aemon."

Her next words however, shock him to the core.

"Please stay." This time it's almost in a pleading tone.

Aemon's eyes observe Visenya and with a sigh he agrees. "You don't need to ask."

A radiant smile is on Visenya's lips and she's soon out cold.

Aemon broods.

* * *

**86.**

It's not like he and Visenya make it a sport to kill someone. Or killing for the sake of having fun.

However, Aemon has certain standards.

In his standards, that means killing their would-be killers before those killers could kill  _them_  is more than fair. Aemon will be the first in line to kill anyone if it means his sister stays alive (including their dragons). He's fine with it.

Standards that could be easily forgotten as he develops a full vendetta against the slavers. Most who tries to harm them deserves a good beating or a final death blow.

So killing someone who comes to hunt them? Hurt them? Enslave them? Aemon is more than  _completely_ _fine_  with that.

Aemon admits this viewpoint clear to Visenya after the third attempt by the Dothraki this time planning to kidnap his sister.

"You're my twin, my better half," He finishes, quiet but firm. "Unconditional love comes in that package meaning—I will do anything for you, sister."

How could he ever want his sister to be anything else?

Visenya has never thinks so little of him.

If anything, she trusts him as her anchor when things get rough.

* * *

**87.**

"Teach me what I need to learn, sister."

"Of course."

* * *

**88.**

Then two human Targaryens become four with one knight.

That same night, Aemon sticks like a glue to her sides until they both fell asleep much to Visenya's confusion.

* * *

**89.**

The next morning, Visenya is gone.

She left a note that hints about recruiting.

How she plans to successfully pull off said recruitment as an eight namedays girl, Aemon has no idea.

Furrowing his brows like he is scowling, Aemon has one job to do.

Between the two of them Aemon is more diplomatic than Visenya.

Here goes nothing.

Three pairs of eyes scrutinize him. He finally acknowledges them with an introduction:

"I am Aemon Targaryen, Third of My Name, youngest trueborn twin son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Lyanna Stark."

Silence yawns at Aemon.

…Honestly, the stares feel like if they did it long enough they could actually kill him.

* * *

**90.**

Flying above Valyria, Visenya tries to stifle her second-hand embarrassment that she is suddenly feeling. She didn't regret her actions but she is starting to feel self-conscious.

Has she done the right thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it. I finally wrestled this thing into submission.


	5. We Do Not Sow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons recruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically, this chapter has been sitting in the backburner for a long time.  
> My apologies for the long wait. *hurries away*

**91.**

Visenya supposes the only way forward is to accept that some counterparts in this current life are different from Jon Snow's original lifetime. Therefore, it would be best to treat others fairly without any expectations.

Eyeing her list of recruits, she pensively gives her hydra the look.  _If some of them get difficult to contain…_

She supposes Angeal, Sephiroth, and Genesis could deal with him or her.

Said hydra's snarl sounds so vicious in agreement with her thought.

…Plus when some god/s or deity up there helps out to equip her and Aemon's side she does not question it.

* * *

**92\. Ramsay Snow**

Roose Bolton's said bastard is doing his usual midnight stroll in the forest with his hounds that she reveals her presence.

"You. What are you doing on my Lord Father's estate? I'll have you thrown off the walls." Ramsay says without turning around.

"He-who-flays," she starts as he stiffens.

Immediately, Ramsay turns and changes his stance in a defensive position.

An amused grin appears on the little beauty's face, if he's an ordinary boy he will run away to flee from that grin filled with teeth.

The voice idly muses, "I am in conflict to ask you to join me. Your intelligence in human anatomy is of highest calibre in this age; an excellent weapon you wielded effortlessly—truly a master interrogator to be. You are also ruthless and bloodthirsty one of the things I admire and hate. You are willing to sacrifice anyone as long as your plan will succeed. Having you part of my sentinels will be like having a dagger on my neck."

"You know my secret." Ramsay is impressed. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"I wonder if you have extreme dislike of the Starks at this age?"

His eyes narrow while contemplating the little beauty's words.

"You are never content, are you?"

Ramsay stares at the little beauty's features, his mind trying to catch up from the change of topic. His silence prompts the little beauty's to clarify the question.

"No matter how you deluded yourself to be content of doing Lord Bolton's biddings, you are still a bastard."

His hackles rose as his hounds growl in warning.

"Deep inside you there is a thirst for a great game. The desire to be recognize by your own merit free from a bastard title."

His pulse races as if to answer the little beauty's seductive words.

"Not to mention it will be fun to let the others suffer from your mind games. And have them salivate for your approval."

Someone finally gets him. He smirks as a sudden rush of adrenaline threatens to sweep off his feet, but he will not give in yet. "I am of disadvantage since you know  _too_ much about me."

"You'll know once you accept."

Ramsay is interested. "What do you  _want_?"

"I need you." Are the parting words of the stranger, leaving him with tumultuous thoughts inside him.

Those three words are a major distraction.  _(No one has ever said those words to him.)_

That's where the mental battle begins. His mind is on conflict. His heart wages a losing war. A one-sided battle that the little beauty's wins, but he keeps on denying it.

Whatever it is from her that caught him, is something unexpected and unexplainable. He's irritated beyond words even as he admits his defeat days later.

Serenely, she waits for him in the Manderly's White Harbor.

Ramsay says yes to amystifying conundrum named Visenya Targaryen—who taught him restraint, and yet with an authority to do what he must.  _(In case others think a specific cruel and ruthless one has taken a complete turnabout in his character they might as we as well be out of their minds._

_Don't even dare to tell right to his face that he's changed._

_The consequences are dire to one's physical and mental health.)_

For he's caught utterly and completely in Visenya's web.

* * *

**93\. Gerion Lannister**

Her eyes sparkle like the darkest of amethyst, studying him with intensity he couldn't comprehend. Then, she smiles the tension gone in the air.

"Are you really sure? You can't take back your words, Ser Gerion."

"I'm sure." He answers in his best business tone.

A long silence ensued.

It is not a look that is pushing someone back down. She stares holes in him measuring his sincerity. Her eyes are searching for something. Whatever it is, it's been found.

A small smile appears. "Welcome aboard, Ser."

Secretly, he releases a sigh of relief.

Gerion lives up to fought and fend for himself. One has to especially in a competitive childhood in the Rock being  _the baby_  of the pride of lions. Money is his word. His currency. His life is like that, doing what he pleases when he please.

Be that as it may, Visenya is way more dangerous than him—he can feel it within him. And this person is the only one Gerion will willingly subject himself to.

_In addition, Gerion would never admit this fact in pain of death—he would forever be behind her to watch her back (he learns from the best: Tywin)._

Then, there is that simple fact of how random and dangerous to their own her Sentinels are.

Beauty. Power. Charisma. Loyalty. Unyielding strength. All are understatement of her. She is immensely terrifying and astonishing.

 _Even her enemies respect her._  Gerion muses with barely hidden fondness to his princess.

And he would slice to pieces those that will stand in her way.

Gerion of House Lannister roar is worst than his bite.

* * *

**94\. Arthur Dayne**

They first meet at the shore of Braavos.

A boat carries a lone tall and muscular man with a short beard and sideburns that point upwards, said man takes a moment to scrutinize the view around him.

 _Is this the island he stays on for almost a year?_ His purple eyes inspect what as far as he can see.

Arthur fingers his sword when someone catches his eyes. His left eyebrow arches as he studies the features of the child.

She looks like Ashara from afar when she's little.

"Stop! Someone stop my hat!"

The child words bring a halt to his thoughts. He looks up and sees a straw hat coming on his way. With deft hands he catches it and wonders for a moment where he has seen it before a feeling of familiarity settles on his gut.

"May I have my hat back please?"

He has to fight down the instinct to reach out for his sword—a sense of confusion washes through as he faces the child. Something tells him that he would not have notice the child's presence if the child did not speak to him first.

_How?_

Only to pause dumbfounded seeing a memory of someone.

_Lyanna?!_

Torrential waves of torn emotions stumped Arthur as he watches at the cherubic face of the child in the age of eight with gravity defying raven locks begging to be tame as they curl in all directions. The alabaster skin seems to emit a pearly glow making the child stands out from the others he saw.

The child's whole features are the definition of beauty. Even the most talented artist could not do justice to the child's beauty. For one mad moment, he thinks the child couldn't be possibly a  _human_.

He has seen his own fair share of beautiful women. His sister is one of them. But this child can put each and every one of them to shame when she's full grown. Like an aged wine—

Arthur takes a deep breath inwardly shaking himself from the perversion his thinking has led him to, and he refuses to make a fool of himself in front of anyone man or woman, young or old alike. Then again, the child's voice catches his attention.

_Melodious and electrifying._

Now he's being a poetic sap.

"Thank you for getting my hat," the child says with a smile enough to melt anyone's heart and pulls away the straw hat from Arthur's hand and is starting to leave him.

"Wait, little miss." Thankfully, he did not stammer, what will the others think if he—the Arthur Dayne the Sword of Morning is struck dumb by a child.

 _Weren't you already?_  a voice inside him drawls in amusement.

"Yes?" the child echoes pouting.

"Tell me your name?" he commands her brusquely.

"Sephiroth says I should not talk to strangers."

A grin threatens to appear from his lips. "I help you get your hat back in exchange; you have to give me your name."

The child tilts its head to the side slightly, her eyes eerily reminded Arthur of the late Queen Rhaella implacable stare as they focused solely on him. Oddly, Arthur feels chasten.

"Visenya. Though others call me Lyarra." Then the child leaves him swiftly like the she is being pursued.

Arthur stares in speechless disbelief at the child's back. After what it seems to be hours, his shoulders shake with laughter.

 _Oh, Rhaegar, I await the day your_ _beloved Visenya is to be stolen_ _by another love-struck fool right in front of you._

The thought of having Rhaeger in raging put out by his own actions turning against him has Arthur in high spirits.

The future looks bright. The gods brings him here for an unexpected treasure.

_We'll meet again, princess. Till next time._

* * *

**95\. Samwell Tarly**

"I...I'm—" Sam starts slowly. "I'm the son of noble."

And he begins his tale; Sam reveals that he's not an orphan running away from the orphanage. His parents are alive but they treated him like some dispensable property. They want him to be the perfect proper noble so he can marry a proper lady and increase his family's rank. They want an heir to protect their status and fortune. But Sam can't reach his parents standards, and because of this, his parents will fight many times making Sam to think he isn't good enough for them.

"I feel bad for you two," indicating Gerion and Ramsay respective Fathers, "but even with parents whose attention is focused in me, I'm still alone," Sam says, his voice cracks a little at the end.

"I see," Ramsay says his entire face is downcast. Gerion eyes harden to cold fury but did not say anything.

Sam suddenly stands up his voice in fervour through the help of liquid courage: several cups of wine. "I want to explore the world someday! I will be free from this wretched kingdom. I want to see the whole wide world and write a tome about it! I'll do anything whatever it takes to be prepared for the near journey! Let's become stronger together and become person of great renown."

At this declaration, the Visenya laughs quietly the heavy mood dissipates replace by an air of thrill and wonder.

"You don't have to tell what to do. My name will be famous across the world! A living proof that I lived!" Ramsay looks at the sky with determination. "I don't care what the world will think, no matter what, I won't lose to them! I'll become a great man and stand above everyone else!"

"I'll stand as witnesses to your dreams," Visenya cheers and takes a deep breath proclaiming the dream for the heavens above to hear.

The men look at her in surprise and soon follows her cheers.

* * *

**96\. The Company of Roses**

_Visenya of Valyria._

Her progress is slow but purposeful, with no haste, no tension, and no uneasiness like a serene walk in the Grass Sea. Rickard Stark, a descendant of the minor branch of House Stark feels the foreboding ominous thought that he and his brothers and sisters are seeing the pace of the invincible.

"It would seem you have a decision to make," the child begins softly.

A decision, his brothers and sisters glance at Rickard—the child is offering a deal. Do they even have the power to refuse?

Rickard is careful about choosing his next words—it will change  _everything_. "You wish our service—"

"Yes," the child cuts him off before he can continue.

It is a simple admission that silences them all. It's not a threat but it somehow sounds like one.

_Sweet merciful Death. Visenya Targaryen is a child still!_

"You all have the potential to do something that will change this world," the child enthuses with sincerity. "But your business affairs is not a way to greatness and honor," her exquisite jewelled sizes them up like no one ever did before. It is brutally disconcerting.

"There is path before you," her voice holds a strange certainty; "none of you have chosen to step on it. It is here again, one last time."

They all shiver as one an unknown feeling creep on their spines. Looks of disbelief are exchange as they understand what she is referring to. She is asking the impossible.

_To bloody bend the knee._

"I know what you want," the child's words over-ride their upcoming protest, for a moment Rickard finds himself as if he'd been stripped bare, he gives a quick glance to the others noting they had felt what as he feels.

"It is not power, fame, prestige, or treasures beyond imagination."

Unease fills them all.

_Could the child see what it is in their mind, heart, and soul?_

"They are masks you all deluded your selves with."

They all cringe struck painfully by the brutal truth that flays their very skin.

"You will search to the ends of this world but you will find nothing unless you choose to loyally serve House Targaryen of Valyria." The power behind her words warms the air around them, it hums as if alive.

Rickard Stark feels being flayed open and raw.

"This path requires a leap of faith. It will tip the Known World upside down." The words sound so ominous, a finality.

"A path?" one of the Roses asks in bewilderment. They need to know what she is promising. They need to understand.

"It is something you have to decide for yourself."

They were all staring at the child, struck speechless as if they were listening to the voice of destiny.

And perhaps they are—the child is showing them the right path to take. Hers.

The child understands them.

 _A leap of faith indeed_ , Rickard thinks.

His eyes meet hers. His hands grasping her welcoming, warm hands.

The child smiles knowingly.

A shiver of anticipation washes through him, riveted on the presence of the child of Ice and Fire. Other people may not catch on so easily but they the Blood of the First Man with faint traces of The Children, of Greenseers' blood, who all willingly exiled themselves from their respective Houses since Aegon the First landed in Winterfell did see and understand the power restrained inside the child.

She is immense and terrifying.

* * *

**97\. Satin Flowers**

Satin, who is one of Varys' birds is scared. No, petrified. Ramsay Snow is one of hers. He closes his eyes and wishes this is all a bad dream. No, a nightmare.

Then he remembers her words:

_"I care not of your past. Whoever you are born from, what you are, and what you once were. When I ask you to be a member of my Sentinels, you will leave everything from your past life. I want you to strengthen your skills, abilities, talents, and new tricks and trades you might come up with. You will start a new life. Most important of all, your dreams, achieve it with everything you got. Last but not the least, I want your loyalty. The whole world might become my enemy. Are you prepared to take the risk?"_

Satin takes a surreptitious glimpse at Visenya and her merry band of misfits—her Sentinels. His imagination is running wild, his instincts telling him that Visenya is one of the most dangerous but utterly brilliant few who could probably take over the world twice may it be land, sea, or the entire world itself if she sets her mind to it. Like her ancestor Aegon the First and her namesake. Visenya is certainly up for the challenge and her Sentinels would all jump and say how high with unhealthy enthusiasm mixed with absolute faith.

Whatever magic it is, to change the should-be-enemies to allies. Visenya might have a list of To Convert List with her all this time to be precise in cheating.

And she is turning nine namedays still.  _A child._

She is mad. No, totally insane, but Satin is with her right now. One of hers.

She is dangerous.

For Satin Flowers already cast his lot and it all fell to Visenya Targaryen, his princess  _(her three-headed dragons made Satin do it out of awestruck terror)._

…A dragon's charm is too mystifying to understand.

* * *

**98.**

_This is perplexing._ Varys sums it up.  _How could this happen? I never had foreseen this._

Varys has known about Visenya Blackfyre. Leaving her unattended is a risk he isn't willing to give.

He probably should have kept a closer eye on her from now on.

The Iron Throne's Watcher, Varys the Master of Whispers is a genius with an innate tactical mind. Like a cyvasse master, every move is carefully evaluated with précised plans on and on. There are pawns whose value is insignificant that he didn't concern himself with them too much.

Base on what Varys  _witnessed by chance_  in person—a personal visit he tasks himself with to look for Viserys and Daenerys through the good service of the honourable Company of Roses—Visenya of Valyria  _(Varys suspects she is one remnant of Blackfyre's seed who happens to inherit Daenys the Dreamers' legendary foresight)_ is someone to be by your side than against you.

_As there are pawns that move unexpectedly. Unpredictable and dangerous. Like her._

The possibilities threaten to overwhelm him. With one look, Visenya is just a child, but someone like her isn't someone ordinary. Now, she had chosen to be a trainee assassin.

_This changes everything._

A fitting word indeed as giddy excitement fills Varys, thrilled with another potentially  _bright_  dragon has joined the game.

Visenya of Valyria is a brilliant surprise to the game. A secret Varys greedily won't share so easily.

In another move, Varys could probably spill the beans about the Targaryens. On the other hand, he chooses not to. For Varys' massive displeasure and continuous lamentations, the Usurper King, Robert Baratheon has not live up to  _Varys' expectations_ to rise to the challenge of being a very good king for the good of the realm ( _this is Robert Baratheon's greatest sin against Varys)._

Well, Robert is an easily replaceable pawn.

So who will reign supreme?

a. The Exiled Silver Prince Rhaegar

b. Aegon, Rhaegar's heir

c.  Viserys and his sister Daenerys

d. or is it Visenya of Valyria

The royal dragon family drama will surely be an epic to watch.

The Iron Throne after all belongs always to those of dragon blood.

 _Be it a Targaryen,_  Varys smiles with teeth,  _or a Blackfyre._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In CANNON Westeros and Valyria, children grow up so fast. Then again, Visenya Targaryen is an old soul with alluring charisma.


	6. Family, Duty, Honor I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visenya never ask for any of this nonsense: Aegon the Conqueror Come Again. Someone just intervenes and apparently, Visenya and Aemon are the best bet.  
> A sentient prevailing will of Valyria will not be denied.  
> Valyria wants its Champion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family, Duty, Honour is DIVIDED into two parts. The FIRST PART is set in Valyria and the Free Cities. The SECOND PART is set in Westeros and Free Cities during and after the Dragon Quartet is officially introduced in the game of thrones.

**99.**

One night, Daenerys dreams…

"… _the North, a princess is born the day the smiles died by a she-wolf with the ancient Blood of Winter and Children of the Forest. She is as immovable as freedom itself and has dominion over the bitter winter winds and of unforgiving ice._

_The princess meets the glorious Valyria in one of her pilgrimage._

_Strangely, the princess is not burned even as her soul is marked and lips are painted with blood._

_She has long since been called Valyria's Champion."_

Daenerys wakes up from her _first_  restful sleep  _after so many moons_  and feels strangely comforted by that dream somehow.

It's too good to be true.

 _However,_  Daenerys decides reserving her judgment for now when she breaks her fast that same morning,  _only time will tell if this is all real._

* * *

**100.**

Viserys is simmering in anger at first and conflicted at next. Because, really, if someone practically abducts you to save you and two persons you cared about as well, and sets you on fire with at odds feelings (the persons who save them are  _Rhaegar's and Lyanna's children_ ), only for that person to disappear for moons on end without any contact unless you count her twin, and the waiting is the worst  _(why the hell does he feels abandoned?!)._

So he waits and waits.

* * *

**101.**

Aemon gawks at the collection of people Visenya has brought with her back to Valyria and then cranes his head skyward.

 _I know you are always listening. I wish for fortune in meddling with my sister's life again. You choose her for a reason one that I cannot fully understand unless I lived with it._ Valyria's wind kisses Aemon's cheeks as he continues,  _I doubt Visenya is aware of the path set before her. She can be slow at uptakes._ Sometimes.

Aemon knows Visenya considers herself a jagged sword at best and a human shield at worst. With a three-headed hydra and magic she wields effortlessly, he highly doubts Visenya  _comprehends_ that luck or fortune follows her with a lover's faithful devotion. He doubts she even  _realizes_ that  _she is blessed_  by the gods.

 _A compensation for all she has suffered,_  Aemon can see that now.

And Aemon wishes for them to be strong enough to bear the burden of this 'blessing'.

And maybe he should probably polish his hosting skill to maximum. Gods know he fails poorly at the Targaryens and Ser Willem.

…Visenya would most likely chuck that hosting job at him for the reason that Aemon is a little more diplomatic between them.

 _The things I do for her,_ Aemon quietly sulks.

* * *

**102.**

"—with you. Anything you're up to is always interesting than playing house-sitter."

A petulant voice waft in the corridors of the great hall's entrance, Darry and his charges Viserys and Daenerys all perk up.

Aside from that bold introduction from Aemon Targaryen, said host literally left them on their own, a bad move for any working relationship. Strange though, as it seems to work. Giving them space that is.

Big-hearted Daenerys, is all bursting with happiness. Willem has at least expects that. Dany has always been kind. Even as life as a hunted Targaryen tries to bleeds off that kindness. Her wish is to have a place to belong, a home where she is happy.

And Lyanna's twin has given Dany a home.

For what conditions, Willem does not know.

Viserys, however—Willem eyes Viserys' tension—Lyanna's children have to work hard for Viserys' approval.

He is why Willem dreads the incoming official face-off of the Targaryen.

Dragons bear long grudges. Their history of blood and fire and words of House Targaryen prove that.

And it is rather easy to wake a dragon confronted with the living seeds of the unforgiveable mistake from their foolishly in love sires that brought a ruin on the Targaryen's legacy.

 _Here it goes,_ Willem sighs as they entered.

As if being spoken, Visenya looks up from her meal.

Willem fights off the creeps when those sharp eyes of Valyrian blood zeroes at them. Visenya's divided attention is caught by the others and has made the clamour in the great hall to die as swift as lightning struck.

No one else seems to know what to say next until Visenya moves and sets two dragon eggs right on a taken aback Viserys and Daenerys without ceremony.

Willem's charges are completely frozen until Visenya prods them. "Why don't you switch them?"

Willem hides his surprise when Daenerys  _and Viserys_ take her hint to switch their eggs.

When a moment passes by and nothing happens. Willem frowns as Daenerys and Viserys  _wilt_ in disappointed and humiliation, his mouth opening to—

_CRACK!_

_CRACK!_

Awestruck in disbelief, many gape and struggle with reality as two dragon hatchlings make themselves known with their piercing cries.

_Thud._

"Is this going to be the pattern, sister?" All at once, Aemon who recovers first after smacking his own head on the table shows more of his character than Willem has known him for the past several moons. The boy is both irritated and resigned.

Visenya has the grace to look oblivious her shenanigan. "Meaning what?"

"Your pattern of bulldozing, ripping minds apart from normalcy, breaking and building everything we knew of." Aemon clarifies to her and then shares to everyone else, "My sister, Visenya, is a force of nature personified."

The matter of fact words is refreshing after all the boy's brooding silence Willem has been accustomed to.

"Of that I have no doubt," someone mutters too loudly.

And Willem Darry could do nothing but  _stare and stare_  at the eye of the tempest—a description for there is no other words that match for one Visenya Targaryen that he commits to memory—sitting with  _them,_ people which Willem _just recognized belatedly_ by a closer look at their facial and body structure recognition.

A _bloody_  Bolton, a  _damned_  Lannister, the Company of Roses, and gods know who else all gathered together for one merry feast.

…What?

_What?!_

"As for Ser Willem, his sight must be remedied quickly," Visenya announces like resolving Willem's sight is the easiest thing to do.

A part of Willem wants to faint.

 _Just what kind of madness we got ourselves into?_ He whimpers inside the safety of his private thoughts.

* * *

**103.**

Visenya leaves again.

There are things to do.  _Lots_ of it.

Her people to settle first and give them her first orders.

Visenya did not forget them (Viserys, Daenerys, and Ser Willem), she just broods if what she is doing is right. (But when did she ever did  _nothing_  when she  _could do something_ about it?).

* * *

**104.**

Daenerys fights her flight reflex when those unnerving sharp draconic eyes are on her. Turned between awe and terror of Visenya's three-headed dragon, she pushes back her fear to focus on her bond with Viserion, her fiery sunset red dragon  _(ignoring the bit of preening Viserys did from the naming)._

With her bond to Viserion, Daenerys has these understanding of dragons: they regard everyone else as a danger to their  _Chosen_ rider. It isn't hunger or maliciousness; dragons are typically extremely territorial with their  _Chosen._  She also understands that dragons didn't burn or kill for fun. They did it to defend their territory, or themselves, to protect themselves or simply to hunt food.

Viserion whispers.  _Visenya._  His jaws yawning open to display sharp teeth, claws flexing.

All of their dragons, hers, Aemon's Viserys' have learned Visenya' name. The dragons respect her. If theirs is a direwolf pack, Visenya will be the alpha. Somehow the dragons are attuned to Visenya in ways that make Daenerys a bit envious. Maybe it is because Visenya never treats the dragons as something less.

Daenerys has come to understand that ignoring the dragon's sentient mind and has treated them like pack mule has the bonds of the Targaryen of old snapped into nothing.

 _Fly, fly, fly._  Viserion chants in a mournful voice within the bond.

Daenerys scratches his ears in comfort which Viserion welcomes in pleasure and lets her palm rest on his nose, a gesture of trust since the olden days between  _Chosen_  and their dragons. It has been this way since he has hatched.

Safe and feeling at home, Daenerys has never felt happier in her life.

* * *

**105.**

_"My sister, Visenya, is a force of nature personified."_

Viserys takes Aemon's warning close to heart.

It is the very first lesson he personally had witnessed from Visenya.

Second, is Visenya's skill to disappear with a distraction one cannot get rid off so easily.

His newest companion ( _Viserys named the midnight blue dragon, Balerion. If dragons are being revived it is only right and befitting of a Targaryen dragon's name to be used again for them to remember._ ) purrs around his neck in contentment.

He could probably forgive Visenya for leaving again a little for Balerion.

He even appreciates that she bribes him and Daenerys with dragons—what else could he think? It's always a matter of give and take. Life cruelly taught him that.

This line of thinking is promptly slapped by a growl.

 _Choose you,_  Balerion rumbles through their bond.  _My Chosen._

 _Apparently, dragons are offended by the mere thought that they can't think for themselves,_  Viserys thinks of this rather sharp rebuke.

 _Forgive me, Great One,_  Viserys awkwardly offers.  _Somehow,_  it's easier to say those words to a dragon.

Balerion just sniffs.

Viserys then goes back to contemplate about Visenya. She's all he could think these days.

Viserys  _understands_ Visenya is up to something. Something she practically drags them to be a part of her scheme.

Aemon seems long-suffering and resigned to whatever his twin is up to.

Aemon is always there beside Visenya.

Just like Viserys is with troublesome Daenerys.

Viserys has no idea what to think about this uncanny resemblance.

* * *

**106.**

While breaking their fast that morning with Visenya, Aemon, Daenerys and Ser Willem are startle by a righteously furious Viserys.

In contrast, Visenya gracefully weathers the blame in silence.

Nevertheless, when Visenya speaks quietly and evenly, they listen and learn Visenya's efficient use of brutal honesty.

* * *

**107.**

Viserys finally catches up to the elusive Visenya as she breaks her fast  _fourteen days later_ and ignores their audience.

"The Targaryen Dynasty has fallen and thousands died because of two foolish lovers.  _Your mother and father!"_  Viserys roars, satisfied that he can finally say those words out loud after being  _silenced for years_.

He isn't certainly prepared to be backed into the corner by an infuriatingly unruffled Visenya.

"Your father the  _Mad King_  burns children and men and women alive  _for shit and giggles_. The same man who  _murdered_  my grandfather and uncle and soon  _demanded_  another uncle for his head as well. To command  _an unjustly beheading_  to the Lord Paramount of the North with blood of the Winter Kings that ruled  _for eight thousand years_  before the dragons came and conquered, do you  _honestly_   _think_  the North will just stand idly and watch?"

A number of bold emphasis in that statement is not lost to Viserys as Visenya continues.

"And your brother the people of Westeros highly claimed as  _good, gentle and wise_  spirited away a noble  _daughter of the North_  without a word, written or otherwise has incited a scorned stag who is then put to the pedestal because of  _dragon-traced blood_  that made Robert Baratheon  _legitimate_  as candidate to the Iron Throne. A noble king  _anointed with the innocent_  blood of our siblings and  _unforgiveable_  rape of Princess Elia Martell. Of course, when said king sits on the throne, he certainly did  _not_  make anything better for the realm of Westeros wasted and drank as he is and whored his way to any maiden his eyes fell onto. He is a  _disgrace_  to all noble and just knights of Westeros. Still he remains as king hellbent on  _hunting down_  the dragonspawns he  _loath with everything he has_."

Somewhat mollified by the unbiased criticism to the Usurper King, Viserys opens his mouth—

"If what you are going to say to me is that,  _'Now you would dare to claim the Iron Throne because of Blood Rights'_  next I will punch you, Viserys. I would never curse  _myself and anyone that I loved_  to sit on that wretched throne."

Viserys reddens  _(how does she know he'll say that?!)_ and finally  _asks the question that bothers him the moment for moons at end._

 _"So why did you take us in?!"_ he yells and flails gesturing at everything she did. Nothing is ever truly free without conditions. He learns that as a bitter fact of life. "Is this about that rigid Stark  _honor?!_ "

_Viserys did not want any pity from Rhaegar's children._

"I want the three of you  to live ." Visenya stares straight at his eyes. "We are more alike than you think and being alone is much worse so like it or not  we are family . Take your pick."

…She  _understands._

Beside her, Aemon looks resolute as well.

_They both understand._

Viserys does not know what to say to her rather sincere response _but_ his shoulders relax, the tight line of his body easing a little, and then he nods.

When he takes his seat to break his fast, he chooses to seat in her left side and starts to eat.

* * *

**108.**

Daenerys cannot fully relax though.

Visenya has all but ripped her naïve belief of the Targaryen legacy.

Her noble family she once knew as just and good is tainted with innocent blood…

That same morning after that confrontation with Visenya, Daenerys demands her brother and Ser Willem to speak the whole truth.

So they did, to her heartbreak.

Her pique has her room in tatters and Viserion scurrying away from her.

Guilt settles then as she surveys the result of her rushing anger.

Her introspection that if this anger that can turn into full-blown madness has her throwing up sick.

She does not want to become like her father the Mad King that burns people for shit and giggles as Visenya would say.

She wonders how Visenya does it—not losing herself.

Daenerys is not blind to recognize the power Visenya has.

 _Terrible but great,_  Daenerys thinks, because it is the only manner that could possibly do Visenya justice.

* * *

**109.**

"I'm not that easy to kill, Dany." Visenya says for the third time in different wording and different recipient of her not the most comforting thought.

Daenerys shares look with Aemon.

Aemon's sombre eyes told her silently,  _Now you see_ why _I worry. She takes her life for granted._

They both ignore Viserys still pacing in the room in irritation.

At the fifth turn, Viserys glowers at Visenya. "You did not inform me that you're injured  _on purpose,_ " he hisses menacingly.

"Cuz, you're a mother hen," Visenya grumbles quietly.

Viserys hears that.  _"What_ did you just say?"

Visenya blinks owlishly. "Nothing."

Purple eyes narrow at the blatant lie.

"It seems clear to me that Visenya will never outgrow her inner war," Aemon grouses moodily.

Daenerys worries her lips.  _That's the problem. Isn't it? They are the same in the end. Shunned and hated as children. Bastards. Unwanted. Outcasts. Leaving scars to our shattered heart._

There's a wordless glance between them.

Aemon bumps her shoulder. She gives him a faint smile.

Viserys pulls Visenya in the waist and them to a huddle.

 _This is home,_  Daenerys thinks in content joy. Something she's wished to be a part of anything so much in her life.

She and Viserys shares a look.

They will fight  _fiercely_  to keep it that way.

* * *

**110.**

Rain is falling heavily on one misty morning in Valyria. It's been three days since then, but water still falls from the skies as it lands everywhere making everything cold and damp.

There is a cloud of gloom hovering over castle. The family and the army and navy are all inside upset that there is no action for them as the weather itself permits them not. No one but Visenya has dared to venture outside to get wet.

Under the rain, a young thirteen namedays old girl is dancing with light graceful steps with a gentle smile on her face—a head-turner beauty that will melt the hearts of anyone who gazes upon her.

She spreads her hands on the air as if on flight and twirls as if dancing with an invisible partner. Unmindful of the rainy weather as she dances on and on, she didn't mind it as long as she is having fun under the rain.

A tall young man with a handsome face watches over her with a fond smile. He waves at her as their eyes meet. She beckons him over as if inviting him for a dance. He walks to her and takes her hands as they both dance under the rain. With a look of mischief, the man tickles her and she responds to him through a chase. The two are soon laughing and chasing each other.

When the rain stops falling, they walk together with his arms over her shoulders. Her wet clothes have distracted him for a moment as they had stuck on her like glue. With a sigh, he pulls his cloak and places it on her.

Visenya nearly bounces with quiet happiness at him as he takes her hands in his. "Do you like the rain, Viserys?"

Viserys shrugs. "I don't like the cold wet but it's fine."

"I love the rain for it washes and cleans the world," she muses idly.

Viserys gives her a look. "It isn't like you to be so poetic, niece."

Visenya smiles.

Viserys smiles back and pulls her closer. "You miss your twin?"

"He's gone for a three moons."

"Like you don't disappear for several moons?" Viserys retorts rhetorically. "He just needs some space, Visenya." At his answer, a look of contemplation crosses in her eyes.

"Aemon has growing pains," he adds with a small grin that brings out bells of laughter from her.

"You shouldn't say that. If he hears it, he'll get angry." Reaching her bedroom, she pulls away from him. "I'll see you later, Viserys."

Viserys nods absently, his mind wonders in contemplation.

At first sight, Visenya may appear as a polite person hiding an insolent and brutal mouth beneath the icy persona. She has a golden heart but doom falls upon those her wrath rages on. Visenya, the most stubborn and head inducing headache girl he has known in his life. Who is also the most beautiful person Viserys laid his eyes on with the exemption of his sister.

If his brother, Rhaegar knew about his feelings for his niece, Viserys knows that nothing will come up to it if he can help it.

…It is probably best that the Silver Prince is nowhere in this world then.

* * *

**111.**

_In one timeline we kiss but the stars don't come down. In another you set a world on fire for me but I perish in the flames. Another and we're strangers on a busy street, brushing by close enough to send each other reeling off balance but not stopping. Somewhere there's a final space where your hand on my face is the punchy climax to an epic saga, where the way our mouths meet takes the breath right out of people's throats. One universe has us right, of all the millions stacked on millions. So it's not this one. I can live with that. The world is full of wonders and a hundred years ago the moon was too much to dream of touching. Look how far we've come. Turn over your shoulder and just look. Maybe we'll come across each other at the turning of the century, racing across the breaches between worlds. I'll build my life on that maybe."_  Daenerys quietly reads at the solar that night, ignoring her brother Viserys' morose countenance.

The twins seem to infect anyone with their infernal brooding gloominess Rhaegar and Ned Stark were both known for.

Daenerys knows the main source of this particular brooding.

No one is immune to Visenya's alluring charms and charisma. But Aemon and Viserys hate it as well as they are enchanted by it.

As it is his duty, Aemon loves his twin as a brother would that looms to protect his sister's virtue. Viserys  _loveslovesloves_ Visenya.

Both males didn't want any of these lovestruck fools around Visenya. They couldn't stand them for their nerve and straightforwardness and act on it through trying to abduct Visenya. Both Aemon and Viserys had fun beating those idiots' asses but they keep on coming.

Viserys even contemplated Aemon's suggestion to lock Visenya in a tower, but she will hate them for that.

"Good evening," a stern and cold voice calls her breaking Daenerys from her reverie.

Both Daenerys and Viserys swiftly turn and see the disgruntled face of Aemon. The other men see this face of Aemon as well and immediately move out of the way. No one in the right mind would dare to stand up against  Aemon in one of his 'moods'.

A teasing smirk is on Daenerys' lips. "Did you have fun, Aemon?"

Aemon's scowl deepens in answer.

"We will leave soon again," Viserys says nonchalantly. "But before that, we need to do something to those scums. It will be better for her not to be bothered by them."

Both male dragons share a feral smile.

Daenerys gracefully rolls her eyes.  _Overprotective men._

Daenerys has observed that even as a child, Visenya has left a mile long trail of broken hearts upon her wake. She often did wonder if Visenya knows it and acts to ignore their lovesick expression. On the other hand, that obliviousness is not  _only limited_ to strangers even those close to her suffers from it.

 _It is sad, cruel world._  Daenerys smirks impishly.

And if they can also be successful with another objective, matters will tip over their favour.

It's better to ask forgiveness later to Visenya. Though Daenerys doubt they will be denied the permission anyway.

 _Visenya forgives so easily,_  Daenerys muses and feels protective of her.

Daenerys is an aunt.

Daenerys also has the quest to protect the most big-hearted female dragon as well.

* * *

**112.**

Her family cheers in triumphant delight.

Visenya looks up.

Above, dragons wink in the dark skies.

She hears both young and old dragons sing their songs around Valyria.

She blinks back the tears of hard won happiness in her eyes.

How time has flown by so quickly.

Angeal, Sephiroth, and Genesis doze beside her as they curl around her protectively, ignoring the noise with ease of familiarization or simply they are indifferent of the human affairs as long as their  _Chosen_  is happy with said people.

* * *

**113.**

Visenya should have really known that peace  _(Yes, she recruits. They need to fight and defend._ That,  _is_ an inevitable _lot in the game of thrones after all. However, she has drawn a thick line—she has chronic-avoidance issue about Aegon the Conqueror Come Again nonsense that looms above her like a shadow.)_  is temporary when dragons who hold grudge the size of Westeros is with her.

Still, she should have known who has thrown the gauntlet.

(According to Aemon's pragmatic opinion, the problem of slavery needs to be solved first.

Visenya then is reminded of Aemon's full vendetta against the slavers.

Visenya also remembers about the rigid Stark honor and the innate goodness of Aemon who won't ignore someone helpless that is asking for help.

And Daenerys and Viserys obviously agree with Aemon's campaign against slavery and poverty.

Visenya also remembers about the hunted sibling's childhood filled with choking helplessness and always on the run and life's misery that could drive anyone at wits end.

Not to mention, Valyria gives  _the_  blessing  _(very suspicious really)_ to the three's thriving venture.

Well, it is a good thing to know and see their hearts scarred and jagged by the cruelties of life as they are, are still in the right place.

It's not like if she would protest,  _if she has any to begin with_ , so she says nothing as Qohor's slave trade is overthrown by three well-meaning dragons and their Chosens.

* * *

**114.**

With the revival of dragons and the introduction of the Dragon Quartet of Valyria, history will tell that Qohor had it coming.

Qohor is the first wave.

Across Valyria, the Free Cities take notice.

When they will search for evidence, none is found.

Qohor has vehemently refused to tell on who, what, how, and why.

Few with old names that stretched as far when the Doom came hold their breath at edged on their hereditary seats of power.

The  _Claiming,_  for there is no other word for it, hints of old magicks.

And they are  _conflicted._

* * *

**115.**

For the first time after the restoration, Valyria stirs to  _look back_  at the Free Cities who were once called the  _Valyrian Freehold._

* * *

**116.**

There's another secret Daenerys has never told anyone not even Ser Willem Darry who she loves like a father, not even Visenya and Aemon who have big hearts that reach their hands and continues to hold her even if she does not want them to, especially not Viserys, her brother who remains steadfast and unfaltering throughout the miserable years they shared together.

Telling the four would  _break_  them.

Once, in the middle of their campaign in Slaver's Bay, Daenerys accidentally sees a look-alike of Viserys' build. She's nearly fooled by the look-alike and has almost called his attention.

Then the man turns around  _(he's older than Viserys, she realizes belatedly),_  and it takes everything she has not to snarl, because that is her brother not Viserys but the eldest brother's face, Rhaegar talking to another look-alike—most likely his son—and a red haired man with the Golden Company watchers guarding them.

She goes back to the headquarters.

She takes solace in her readings that night.

" _Many events have revolved around you. Lives have changed course because of you."_

" _No, that can't be right. I have been stuck away at convents and in this castle. I have nothing of any import and can mean nothing to anyone."_

" _You are the eye of the hurricane, the silent place of still air around which the violent forces blow."_

" _But why now?"_

" _Destiny perhaps. Or an effect of those uncanny abilities of yours. Yours will not be a quiet life."_

" _It's been deafeningly quiet up until now."_

" _You'll hear the howl of the winds soon enough."_

" _Don't say things like that. They scare me."_

" _You wanted the truth. It is not my fault it is not as pretty as you wish."_

 _-Theron to Lucia,"_ Daenerys reads the haunting words and sleep with them that night.

(Daenerys would soon learn this:  _her dreams come true._ )

In the following campaign that last for a month, Daenerys  _rages_ and  _channels_  her justified fury.

By blood, Rhaegar is supposed to be family, Westeros  _believed_  him to be a gentle man unlike their father Aerys. Apparently, Rhaegar had  _left_ her and Viserys and Ser Willem  _to rot in seven hells_. Like they are disposables to be thrown and forgotten.

Family is not supposed to leave anyone behind.

Viserys, Ser Willem, Visenya and Aemon taught her that.

That's right.

Rhaegar and his lot are  _not_ her family.

Daenerys calms down.

Daenerys moves forward.

Daenerys never shares a word about the encounter. It's not like telling the others would change a thing. They would be furious, yes, the kind that wakes a dragon. But not  _with her._

But  _with Rhaeger._

Daenerys wonders if Rhaegar alive would wake the twins' sleeping dragons.

Sometimes the twins are more icy cold than blazing fire. Both burns just as well.

* * *

**117.**

Visenya wakes up with music in her head and lyrics that did not fade in her sleep.

[The Dragonborn Comes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cwPw4qMoF8)

_Do you want me to sing this song, Valyria?_  She communicates to the ancient entity. It is not the first time Valyria has asked her to sing.

If entire islands could nod metaphorically, Valyria did in the confines of their bond.

All right then.

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin_

_Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan_

_Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

 

_Our hero, our hero_

_Claims a warrior's heart_

_I tell you, I tell you_

_The Dragonborn comes_

 

_With a voice wielding power_

_Of the ancient Nord Art_

_Believe, believe_

_The Dragonborn comes_

 

_It's an end to the evil_

_Of all Skyrim's foes_

_Beware, beware_

_The Dragonborn comes_

 

_For the darkness has passed_

_And the legend yet grows_

_You'll know, you'll know_

_The Dragonborn's come_

After she finishes singing, Visenya thinks nothing of it at first.

That's the problem.

* * *

**118.**

A bell tolls far in the distance.

A  _Call_ that has not been heard since the early beginning of Valyria.

The  _Call_  is like a ripple in the seas, like an echo that spreads, like light that enlightens, like winds that is free, as dawn breaks the Call rolls across the lands, to faraway lands, and across the Narrow Sea.

All across the Known World and Lost World, in every nation, people falter and freeze and turn their faces towards the source of the  _Call_ that resounds and binds their very blood.

 **Come,**  the _otherworldy_   _Voice_ summons them.

* * *

**119.**

Once upon a time, there were nine colonies named the  _Valyrian Freehold_.

Its people were subjects of the Dragonlords of Valyria.

But the Dragonlords were humans still, they grew arrogant.

It seemed that Dragonlords would choose to forget in keeping faith of their honour.

Then Doom of Valyria came upon the Dragonlords.

 _Valyrian Freehold_  was left to pick the pieces.

But not all of these nine independent city-states cut ties with Valyria.

Trueborn or natural children, at the end, they are Blood of Valyria.

Instead, they choose to forge ahead.

There's no home for us?

 _Then we'll build one._ That's what they have decided.

Afterwards there came the difference of opinions which ultimately divided them. The once  _Valyrian Freehold_  fragmented in a chaotic period known as the  _Century of Blood._  When the dust settled,  _nine independent city-states_  were left in western Essos they were the  _Free Cities_ :

Braavos

Lorath

Lys

Myr

Norvos

Pentos

Qohor

Tyrosh

Volantis

When Aegon and his sisterwives  _happened_ , these nine independent city-states found  _them lacking_   _and weak_ even as they have three dragons with them _._

And it was proven trial and true.

The Targaryens that came after Aegon and his sisterwives died also lacks the thing they looked for.

A thing which for  _centuries_ the Free Cities finally finds.

Valyria has found the person for them.

The question is:  _will they bend the knee?_

* * *

**120.**

Slowly the priestess closes her eyes. Usually the Lord of Light speaks to her constantly. However, someone else disturbs her.

"We are waiting for the men to decide."

She turns sombre. "And how's that working out for yours?"

"The men all acknowledge that Valyria wants its Champion."

"Yes, Valyria won't be denied."

"No. No fucking way! Fuck that! Fuck this, fuck you, fuck destiny!"

Both ignore the other's vehement denials.

"…Valyria's Champion is not summon and chosen with  _mercy_  in mind."

That shut the other abruptly for good.

"History will repeat itself."

"Yes. Men did learn, once. Men will learn as much as men should remember."

"Or all men must die with fire and blood," the priestess finishes sagely.

* * *

**121.**

At noon, a hurried Daenerys drops several letters on Visenya's table.

Visenya picks the first letter up on the pile and look at the crest and freezes. The letter is from the Iron Bank. She opens it and misses the looks traded by her family.

_To the Dragonborn of Valyria,_

_We humbly ask for forgiveness in our transgressions with Prince Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen and Ser Willem Darry._

_We humbly implore the Dragonborn for mercy._

_Our service is yours forever and always._

_In devotion and loyalty,_

_The Iron Bank of Braavos_

Finished, Visenya gives the letter to Aemon and keeps her silence trying to understand what she has just read. While the letter is read and passed all to her Sentinels' hands, her eyes land on the other letters and she quickly shuffles them and has again handed the un-opened letters to Aemon after a moment.

Visenya decides right then to quietly leave before she destroys something.

Everyone else in the Meeting Room just speechlessly stares for a long  _what-the-fuck_  moment.

* * *

**122.**

_The Most High Valyria's Dragonborn,_

_I do not believe you understand just how pleased we are after centuries we waited for your return. Blood of Valyria still bounds us. Though we would not have it any other way._

_We humbly beg you, to please grant us an audience with your emissary. For we understand the scope of the Dragonborn's duty._

_Let us renew our oath to Valyria's Dragonborn._

_Faithfully yours always,_

_Volantis_

* * *

**123.**

The letters means all the same thing to the Sentinels'  _trying_  understanding:

The Free Cities after four hundred years of steadfastly defending and keeping their independence have all proudly and willingly bend their knees in absolute loyalty to Visenya.

* * *

**124.**

Visenya did not believe it at first. The Free Cities subservience after  _100 years_  of Century of blood where each city  _one-upped the other_  to submit and another 300 years of independence is too  _bloody_  convenient.

Visenya wants to know why now and not before.

Daenerys from the past had blazed through the Free Cities with fire and blood. And Daenerys did not have the conquering for her serve on a platter. Daenerys sacrificed and lost a lot of her growing army. In the end, once she turned her back and move to Westeros, the Free Cities had taken the liberty to be free from Daenerys' chokehold.

Visenya wants to understand why the Free Cities have served themselves on a platter  _now_.

What's in their playbook?

What is it in for them?

Yes, Visenya is paranoid. Who could blame her?

 **If it brings peace with you, Reborn,**  Valyria speaks through their bond.

 _If you would enlightened me, please_ , Visenya requests.

**The Valyrian Freehold is bound by servitude.**

Visenya has a bad feeling about this.  _An oath?_

 **The** _**Oath** _ **made** **by magic and blood.**

 _And unlike an oath made_ without  _magic and blood. The Oath the Valyrian Freehold made with Valyria is a geis that holds_   _one_ forever and always? Visenya's inner voice has strains at the last.

 **A servitude willingly given.** Valyria's voice is wintry and cruel.

Visenya feels faint.  _This is too much to take—_

… _No one should be in-charge of the freewill of people. No one should have the power to bind others. That's not right!_

 **You set the Roses onto their path, Reborn.**  Valyria is amused by her hypocrisy.

Visenya splutters.  _I-It's not the same. I just showed them the way. A better way—_

**Would you deny their heartfelt desire? When you know better?**

Visenya feels weary and worn to the bone.  _What I want is a family able to stand beside me. I did not ask for any of this…_

 **That there is why you are chosen, Reborn.** Valyria hums and closes the bond leaving Visenya to brood.

Those thrice-damned words. Again?! When will she ever escape Fate whims?

* * *

**125.**

Aemon ( _as their family persuade him to volunteer as spokeperson_ ) waits patiently.

Visenya is still there sitting at the very edge of the cliff like a maiden of fourteen namedays contemplating to take her life having enough of the burden by people's expectations.

Aemon then hastily erases that morbid imagery away. Gods their brooding glory is  _truly_ infernal.

"Conveniently blind, am I?" Visenya looks tired.

Aemon stares. "Valyria could have called  _any_ other Targaryen after the Doom. Even Aegon the Conqueror and his sisterwives were literally  _out of the question_  as evidence of  _only the gods know_ centuries of waiting for you speak for itself. Viserys and Daenerys realize that after Valyria  _finally_  accepts them after staying for  _thirteen moons_  under the request of sanctuary. Even  _I_  know that, sister."

"Glad to know you think so highly of me, brother."

Aemon shrugs. "I'm not the  _only_  one thinking so highly of you, Visenya."

Visenya grimaces in honest confusion churning Aemon's stomach tightly.

"I've been set-up to a high pedestal. If I fall—"

"—Then I'll catch you," Aemon promises swiftly solid and insured.

Thrown for a moment, Visenya could only smile tremulously. Aemon has this violent urge to go North and ask Snowfalls to burn  _someone_   _or two persons or more_.

"What if you will become like me, Aemon?" Visenya's question put his violent urge at the back of his mind.

Aemon already has an answered prepared if she means being reborn again to live and die.

"Then I hope I will be by your side."  _For I am nothing like I am in this life without you._

Visenya smiles a little. "You're too big-hearted for your own good, Aemon."

"Of that, I have to be." Aemon smiles sardonically. "You are the  _Ice Princess_  after all."

Visenya's peals of laughter makes everything all right as ready as she ever be.

* * *

**126.**

Aemon makes the summon. The Sentinels obey without delay.

"I just have to make it official." Visenya's words have the air in the Meeting Room grow pensive at once.

Gerion Lannister claps slowly. "About damn time."

"It's going to be a mess," Samwell Tarly sagely remarks.

"And a bloody hell," Ramsay Bolton relishes in his usual good cheer of sadism.

"I say go screw them," Rickard Stark supports and sporting a rather grim smirk.

"My Ice Princess' will is my will," Satin Flowers says with an air of resignation.

Daenerys smiles and smiles. "So how and when do we start?"

"By appointing positions officially," Viserys recommends and nods at Visenya expectantly.

Visenya eyes their bursting enthusiasm warily. "Apparently, you are all more than ready to take the Known World than I am."

"Forgive me, Ice Princess. It is what you ask for us nearly six years ago," Rickard says rhetorically.

Visenya growls. Outside, her three-headed dragon rumbles. "Fine. Let's start with the campaign these three—" she waves her hand at Aemon's and Daenerys' and Viserys' direction. "—has started. I will be the emissary and stays regent at court and outside it."

Visenya sees the beginning of an uproar from the last declaration, and did not mince her words. "Conquering is one thing. Ruling justly and wise is another and having people that love their leaders will keep us in power for a lifetime than fear that cripples until people have enough and lash out at us."

Visenya watches as everyone nods at this clarification.

"And we'll see how things fare well during downtime with four dragons in and out of court. Officially, both uncle Viserys and aunt Daenerys are my Right and Left Hand respectively."

The siblings nod in acceptance.

"Aemon is the Chief Law Enforcer working together with Ramsay Bolton the Commander of the Shadow Guardians, and Satin Flowers the Head of Intelligence. They are our eyes and ears as shield and swords for the Family."

Aemon and Ramsay and Satin eye each other at this.

"I would be honoured to have Ser Willem to handle the Family's finances. If he would accept it."

Startled, Willem Darry wants to protest but is stopped by Viserys.

"He will do it. He's done well with me and Dany."

Willem nods with a blush that makes Daenerys chuckles fondly at him.

"Samwell Tarly is the Secretary of Science and Medicine. The Maester, so to speak."

Samwell smiles in acceptance.

"Gerion Lannister and Rickard Stark are both the Admirals for the naval and army combat, respectively. As you all have seen, both men took several turns of their position for the past years. In justification for that, it is best to have the knowledge and skills when in battle on both land and water.

Both men nod primly at this.

"That's it for now," Visenya sweeps her eyes at them. "Any objections, Sentinels?

No one speaks. With the exemption of Visenya, they share looks and satisfied nods with each other.

Visenya smiles. "Shall we proceed?"

* * *

**127.**

When dragons soar on the skies and a three-headed dragon descends on the main square of Braavos, the people did not scream and panic.

Instead the proud people of Braavos humbly kneel with such heartfelt fervor of absolute loyalty and desperate longing at Visenya even as they subtly hide their shock from her physical features unlike those of typical Valyrian features.

It is only when each men and woman both highborn and lowborn takes their oath that Visenya  _finally_  did understand.

" _Dragonborn, Chosen One of Valyria_ , our chosen Sovereign Empress, I, Tycho Nestoris, agent of the Iron Bank of Braavos pledge upon the magic in my bloodline, a descendant of  _the naturalborn daughter,_ Aozora  _of Valyria_  to uphold the will of the Dragonborn. May my life be blessed when in Dragonborn's service. May Valyria and Magic forsake my blood if I ever stray from my path. So I pledge to the Dragonborn the Chosen One of Valyria," Tycho Nestoris vows, "So mote it be."

Visenya nearly falters at first even as she speaks like the words are voluntarily at the tip of her tongue, "I, Visenya Targaryen, Second of My Name, from House Stark of the North and House Targaryen of Dragonstone—" Eyes widen at this revelation. "—your chosen sovereign, do renew the Valyrian Oath of Servitude. Guided by wisdom, with justice and honour, I will protect and defend the rights and welfare of all citizens and residents as claimed by Valyria with the means bestowed upon me as the Dragonborn with the words of my Family— _In Arduis Fidelis,_  Loyalty in Adversity. May Valyria and Magic find you true and pure Tycho Nestoris, agent of the Iron Bank of Braavos. May Valyria and sentient Magic bless your devotion and loyalty in the Dragonborn's service and damn you if you ever stray from your path. So I say it, so mote it be."

Visenya feels the amount of weight in the Oath as the bonds in blood and magic weave in the air around them. At once, Visenya forbids anyone else not of age or anyone unwilling to take the oath.

More than one person stares at her with googling  _(amazed)_  eyes.

Visenya ignores the stares like they could not believe she's real or something.

* * *

**128.**

The ceremony of oath-taking continues.

Visenya did not ask the people of Free Cities this question:  _"Do you ever resent the Oath?"_

She wonders the repercussions of the oath being broken. What has it _done_  to them?

What has  _she done_  to them?

Visenya apparently knows nothing on how the people of the Free Cities all look  _so relieved_  and  _reassured_  after the oath-taking is done.

* * *

**129.**

The people are already calling her "mhysa" meaning mother.

Visenya feels guilty.  _This is all wrong, Daenerys is the one to be named that._

Then her eyes gleam.

Sometimes she fears what turns into playing the game of thrones.

However, she will do it over again to see her Family growing strong, safe and happy.

* * *

**130.**

The Dragon Quartet of Valyria spent time with the people both highborn and lowborn.

Their reign ensures that for each city widening roads, proper sewage system, pipes running clean water are constructed, and public and private courts of justice, hospitals schools and food kitchens are built that both highborn and lowborn could go to.

They share so willingly that sometimes some wonders if they are dragons at all but is then reminded of blood and fire that rains when someone unluckily wakes a dragon.

(As proof, the Stepstones have never been the same again.

The Navy Fleet lead by Gerion Lannister and Rickard Stark saw to that under Viserys command.)

Anyways, Viserys and sometimes Daenerys give them lessons of all sorts. They have schools for each branches of learning so everyone who willingly wants to learn is given the chance to do so.

All four dragons eat and train with the Dragon Sentinels and their growing army and navy inside the Great Hall that seems to adjust its size  _magically_ to its occupants.

Visenya and Daenerys sing, dance and play with the children and are join by Viserys and Aemon to do normal chores with the rest of the folks.

One day, Visenya insists that they must learn to heal and farm crops themselves.

One of the men, a noble argues, "We have healers and farmers for that, Ice Princess."

Aemon sighs from the silence Visenya gives. Both twins' expression just as grim, Daenerys and Viserys grimace slightly as one.

"If you men and women are ever involved in a situation where you are injured critically, or worse even die slowly from a grievous wound and natural disasters like famine. I want to make sure you have anything you need, anything that could help, at your disposal."

They went back to learning about healing and farming after that with no further complaint.

 _She cares,_  one Syrio Forel thinks with thorough observation.  _She wants us to live._   _Her genuine kindness makes people love her. And the other three Targaryens that innately have good hearts emulate her. A heart that loves and cares passionately is what makes a Targaryen hard to lived with. She inspires loyalty like no other Targaryen. What a dangerous person you are Visenya Targaryen._

Honored to know her, Syrio smiles proudly.

* * *

**131.**

_More is at stake. More now than ever._  Willem thinks this to justify himself.

Before Visenya goes to bed, Willem's stops her and says with a hint of steel in his words in general, "They worshiped you, you know." Not even his fondness for  _Rhaegar's_  child stops Willem from warning her. Visenya needs to know the hearts that fall on her feet.

"I know," grateful and confused she looks for she does not see how others see her.

It makes Willem wonders who the heck stomped on the princess self-worth growing up because he will fight them given the chance. Come to think of it, Aemon is the same but not this bad.

 _But if they did_ not _, would they grow up the same?_ A treacherous voice whispers to Willem.

Visenya closes her eyes and exhales softly. "Why is it that parents bestow such burdens on children?"

Willem's lips tilted in a sardonic half-smile at the non-sequitar. "Why, indeed."

Visenya's words make Willem to think deeply of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Of how their love brings and torn people and kingdom apart.

Willem hopes for their sake Visenya would not lose her way or else she would—

He then hastily perishes the thought of it.

* * *

**132.**

Visenya takes the lead.

Aemon has always followed and supported Visenya.

For twins of female and male gender that means something to everyone else.

Visenya is a girl that will be a woman soon.

No one among them however is bothered and offended by this.

The weight of the burden she carried as they are made understood by Valyria could break a lesser man and woman.

They are warriors born and bred to endure any challenge, and the job Visenya delegates to each of them is already heavy and profound.

To everyone who personally visits her office, it is rather humbling to be intimidated by Visenya's paperwork that towers and breeds like animals in frenzy heat.

Lots wonder why Visenya's seems rather  _resigned._

Some wonder how Visenya  _stays_ sane.

Few wonder what make her  _so_ driven.

…All things considered, they are  _blessed_  to know they are in good hands.

* * *

**133.**

As years passed by, at regular intervals  _(every moon turns)_  Aemon has steadfastly remain writing and sending letters to some of the Starks and Visenya did the same albeit not so often.

One night in a late dinner, Aemon shares the News that the Baratheon family is hinting a visit to the North, and their cousins have found a pair of mated direwolves with eight pups.

Visenya and Daenerys are interested at the second.

Viserys murmurs quietly about Usurper's bloodhounds.

Aemon furthermore shares about the Night's Watch findings and uncle Benjen Stark who insists to make contact with them.

Visenya pays attention to that detail. "Did he say why?"

"He writes, ' _Winter is coming.'_  That's all." Aemon is confused why uncle Benjen Stark has chosen the words of the House Stark with underlined emphasis.

Visenya hums. "I would like to learn why."

Something in Visenya's voice make Aemon shivers.

"Well, I've seen the impossible made possible in Valyria. If it's about grumpkins, giant spiders, and ice dragons beyond the wall, let Westeros suffer," Viserys recommends acerbically.

Aemon finds that Viserys should not be taken seriously when his uncle in his 'mood'. Pureblood Targaryens, like Viserys, Aemon finds like being angry. Or rather staying angry. It comes with their dragon nature as a habit to spew fireballs verbally.

"But what if the threat is real?" Daenerys intones knowingly.

Silence fall between the Targaryens.

"We have to check then," Aemon decides after a moment.

Viserys studies Aemon for a time and he sighs in resignation. "He cannot be dissuaded. We must blame this dutiful stubbornness on the Starks blood if truth be told."

Viserys is secretly or not so secretly a worrywart at heart so Aemon ignores the jibe after years of dramatic antics he weathers, and prompts Visenya instead. "Well, sister?"

"Frankly, none of this surprises me."

Aemon understand the load of knowledge from those words.

Aemon looks closely and examines Visenya vibrating in… _excitement?!_

"Deathtrap or not, whether hiding in plain sight is no longer an issue. I just want this done and over with."

The discussion has ended. It's already been decided.

Daenerys grins with mischief in her eyes. "Chaos will reign in Westeros."

Aemon shrugs without much care for Westeros except the North. "As long as we fulfilled our duty as the living personified song of ice and fire Westeros should be pleased. And Westeros should pay us riches and wealth."

" _After_  House Targaryen will pay more than our fair share of fire and blood for those insufferable ingrates," Viserys points out with heat.

Visenya smiles at that. "Just imagine their terrified faces, Viserys."

Viserys reluctantly smiles back. "I can live with that."

Aemon almost rolls his eyes at Viserys. Sometimes he's embarrassed by his grown uncle's flirtation and chooses to save his sanity by summoning the Sentinels.

They then proceed to make plans and back-up plans in that same day.

* * *

**Quotes and excerpt and song applied:**

**1).**

_In one timeline we kiss but the stars don't come down. In another you set a world on fire for me but I perish in the flames. Another and we're strangers on a busy street, brushing by close enough to send each other reeling off balance but not stopping. Somewhere there's a final space where your hand on my face is the punchy climax to an epic saga, where the way our mouths meet takes the breath right out of people's throats. One universe has us right, of all the millions stacked on millions. So it's not this one. I can live with that. The world is full of wonders and a hundred years ago the moon was too much to dream of touching. Look how far we've come. Turn over your shoulder and just look. Maybe we'll come across each other at the turning of the century, racing across the breaches between worlds. I'll build my life on that maybe."_ — Elisabeth Hewer

**2).**

" _Many events have revolved around you. Lives have changed course because of you."_

" _No, that can't be right. I have been stuck away at convents and in this castle. I have nothing of any import and can mean nothing to anyone."_

" _You are the eye of the hurricane, the silent place of still air around which the violent forces blow."_

" _But why now?"_

" _Destiny perhaps. Or an effect of those uncanny abilities of yours. Yours will not be a quiet life."_

" _It's been deafeningly quiet up until now."_

" _You'll hear the howl of the winds soon enough."_

" _Don't say things like that. They scare me."_

" _You wanted the truth. It is not my fault it is not as pretty as you wish."_

_-Theron to Lucia, Dream of Me by Lisa Cach_

**3). "The Dragonborn Comes"** is a song from  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ , the soundtrack of which–as has become usual for the franchise–was composed by Jeremy Soule. And cover made by JennPK

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told, this long chapter is a bribe to tide my beloved readers over.  
> Here's hoping the 2nd part will be done out of its skeletal outline soonish *slinks swiftly away*


	7. Family, Duty, Honor II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The universe is a vast place. This world is another where the choices made turns a different path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This SECOND PART is made of interlude drabbles (prelude, in-betweens, and Dragon Quartet's aftermath) of various characters in this fanon alternate universe.

**134\. Brynden Rivers**

_It is I, the human sacrifice they had chosen._

He feels the bitter cold  _(for he is all alone._ _A Targaryen alone in the world, is a very terrible existence)._

Because of those thrice-damned Children of the Forest  _(and their good intentions—a revenge and curse all in one for the entire mankind—that paved its way to seven hells extinction)_  have abducted and bound Brynden for life ( _Those thrice-damned_ _Children of the Forest_ won't take _no for an answer._ Brynden is no fool. He knows if he resisted, things will get worst.  _They will surely drag him and pull some compulsion spells so he'll be bounded to obey their whims.)_  to these accursed roots in the North.

That was why he chooses not to resist them.

* * *

**135.**

Many years pass him by since then.  _(He desires Death who can take him away from this suffocating misery of imprisonment, but those thrice-damned_ _Children of the Forest_ _won't allow it.)_

He has seen House Targaryens rise and fall through the ages.

He has seen House Targaryens' horror and greatness in his very eyes.

He has seen some members of House Targaryens descent to madness.

He comes to figure out the truth and its weight behind the Ironborn's words:  _To pay the Iron Price._

He learns that the Iron Throne bears greed and lies and that Westeros is never fully satisfied. The Seven Kingdoms would only demand more. Still demanding. Always hungry.

He realizes that the Iron Throne of Westeros is asking so much out of the Targaryens— _far too much._

 _He who reigns the Iron Throne is a glorified pig to be slaughtered,_ Brynden thinks in too little, too late horrified helplessness.

* * *

**136.**

One of the Children's young sings in a mournful voice:

" _The stage is set in motion,_

_Each of us has a role to play,_

_It's fated, preordained, and destined._

_How will it be?_

_Is it a fantasy?_

_A reality?_

_Or something in-between?"_

Brynden weeps silently for the Targaryens.

* * *

**137\. Rhaegar Targaryen**

He has plans. His father the king, Aerys has alienated the other six kingdoms as years goes by.  _(No one is allowed to ruin this for him.)_

Ever since he finds the scroll of the  _Prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised_  and realizing there is a new path open in front of him, one that fills him with burning and raw need to fulfill.

For this Prophecy, he is blinded by the bigger picture—his quest and has become unintentionally indifferent by taking few for granted ( _forgetting his mother who stands by in the shadows like a ghost of her former self, his little brother, his wife, his children, everything is thrown away, as if they didn't matter_ ).

After all, it is his duty to fulfill the prophecy.

_(It wouldn't be wrong. His intentions are good. For the Iron Throne. For the Seven Kingdoms. For Westeros. He wouldn't_ _do_ _wrong…)_

* * *

**138\. Lyanna Stark**

What the unyielding Lord Rickard Stark's daughter desires the most is freedom— _her own free will_ unrestrained by the norms of the social order.

Lyarra Stark, her mother is taken away  _too_ early from Lyanna before she can warned Lyanna of this:

_"There is a price to pay for freedom, my love…_

_You may have your wings,_

_But you might also fall_

_Very, very, hard…_

_Or die trying_

_You'll have wounds,_

_Scars that will never fades…_

_All of these will make you stronger,_

_So take heed of the path you choose, my dear child..."_

However, Lyanna's inherent nature—the wolf blood won't allow anything to stand on her way to freedom.

And Lyanna has more than a touch of wolf blood in her.

* * *

**139.**

The meeting between the Lyanna Stark of the North and Rhaegar Targaryen of the West has already been foretold to anyone the wiser.

Words have power.

Oaths are taken and fulfilled as it should be.

One of such is the  _Pact of Ice and Fire._

Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen has simply turned Fate's wheel where they are supposed to be.

And time is ticking forward for a reason: no one could run far  _enough_  from the whims of fickle fate when there are fools too eager by half to merrily traipse his or her way down hell with all reckless abandoned.

* * *

**140\. Peter Baelish**

He was humiliated and belittled by that duel against the Stark heir for Catelyn Tully's hand.  _(And unknown to everyone except Peter, Brandon Stark has made a mortal enemy that day. Her name is Lysa Tully,_ Catelyn's not-so charmingly stunning _younger sister.)_

Secretly raging and holding his grudge shrewdly like a young boy who did not get his waybut Peter lives to see another day and fancies himself being the smart one thinking:  _"Brandon Stark is nothing more but another obstacle that needs to be struck down."_

So Peter plans and plans.

After much careful preparation, Peter has the particular pieces to obtain his goal.

First, the letter from Lyanna Stark that would enlighten her supposed kidnapping to Brandon Stark, her hot-tempered elder brother arrives a little too late in Riverrun.

Second, foolish and obsessed Lysa Tully did the move first enraged as she is on Peter's behalf, Brandon Stark has no idea of the length she would do for Peter's love. So Lysa weaves a lie of Lyanna's abduction to a righteously incensed Brandon Stark  _(how hypocritical of Stark honor, one who seduces and beds women without a care)._

Said hot-tempred Stark believes Lysa Tully without a doubt.

_Hook._

The barbarians of the North, the Starks have been too secluded and have stuffed their heads with too much honor and has underestimate the power-hungry greed of other nobilities of Westeros to realize that the other kingdoms did not think righteously that way like them. And unluckily, for Brandon Stark his death is already set on stone purely because he is a foolish idiot with more balls and brawns than brain against the whim of the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen.

_Line._

Add a besotted and raging storm lord, Robert Baratheon, who only sees what he desires to the mix, the offended Northern lords and their love for honor, and an ambitious trout, Lord Hoster Tully who would always choose his family  _first_ than honest honor—one that would kill and dishonor House Tully, Peter's role in the entire affair would remain unfounded.

_And sinker._

Peter did not even have to play a hand directly to the Brandon Stark's death; his own she-wolf dishonored sister could do that single-handedly herself resulting a bloodbath of the realm that would collapse the hierarchical social strata of the game of thrones.

Several birds in a single shot. All bases covered.

Young Peter fools them all.

For as young as he was, Peter did not get where he is by not playing cunningly smart.

* * *

**141\. Brynden Rivers**

_Peter Baelish is a rat._ _For a pest always has the means to thrive in this game of survival._ _Worse, the young man is cunning enough that in one fell swoop, he indirectly topples down the Targaryen dynasty,_ Brynden reflects cynically as much as he loathes it he could at least appreciate the sheer play of said rat.

Brynden dutifully remembers Peter Baelish as numbed and icily seething he is to the great fall of the Targaryens.

 _The song of ice and fire must be so worth_ this  _all_ for they are born for one reason _,_  Brynden mutters bitterly.  _For what good is being a powerful Greenseer as I am if I am chained and helpless as a newborn babe?_   _What a pathetic spectacle we Dragons must have made, for men and women like of their caliber to take the fall nearly as vicious as the Doom of Valria…_

His sanity whatever is left of it, is slowly rattling away in crippling despair.

* * *

**142.**

The savage slaughter of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon and rape then murder of Princess Elia has appalled  _most_ of the Seven Kingdoms. A king anointed by the blood of the innocent children and rape and murder of the Princess of Dorne is a  _revolting notion_  to those with proper sense of right and wrong. And technically, what Robert did is an act of kinslaying.

This glorified act of murder has taken root for people to have doubts with the Robert Baratheon's rule which is why this disquieting rumor is more than enough as a distraction—the Master of Whispers, Varys has then clandestinely spirited the unbowed kingsguards loyal to House Targaryen away after the Banishment of Prince Rhaegar is made official.

* * *

**143\. Barristan Selmy**

Varys takes one sweeping look at their faces and seems to choose his words carefully before he tells them, "The Ironborn are moving like raptors about to sweep on the carnage of the war. The Valemen, Storm lords, and the Northern lords are carrying out the King's Justice. Same with the Riverlanders. The Lannisters are holding court. The Tyrells and Dorne are playing it safe in neutrality. All the same, Seven kingdoms has bend their knees to King Robert First of His Name of House Baratheon."

"The same honorable just king who stepped over the corpses of babes and unforgivable rape of Princess Elia to get to his throne?"

Prince Lewen Martell's scornful tone whips the air with thickening tension.

Varys grimaces. "Not everyone finds the turnover  _acceptable_ , Sers."

"The Usurper now is king. Only time will tell when he's going to become a good king," Barristan idly comments. "I'd rather be disgraced by dismissal than to serve that man."

Varys' left brow ticks upwardly. "And serve an exiled prince of a fallen house who proves himself madder to torn the Seven Kingdoms apart?"

Barristan glances at his quietly seething brother-at-arms. "We'll wait for the Silver Prince's dismissal."

Varys bows to them. ""I know you will do your part to survive this. Safe travels to you, honored Sers."

When the Master of Whispers left, Baristan sags in weariness. "Whatever happens next, I would not close my eyes any longer to the injustices of kings on the Iron Throne."

"I would like to hear Rhaegar's explanation," Prince Lewyn lowly snarls, face twists into a dark scowl.

Grim silence echoes between the knights.

* * *

**144\. Varys**

The Master of Whispers sends off the ship that carries the exiled Silver Prince with Barristan Selmy and Prince Lewyn, contemplating the possible scenarios of his meddling as he studies the horizon with critical eyes.

The exiled Silver Prince Rhaegar Targaryen would need complete undisturbed healing after what he went through.

Varys other priority at the moment also includes Viserys and little Daenerys to escape Robert Baratheon's vengeful 'justice'. It is always better to have back-up plans if one fails.

And both Rhaella's young children can be a symbol to the multitudes of nobles and commoners alike who still hopes for a Targaryen restoration.

It is his job to ensure options are available for the good of the Realm.

At present, what everyone needs is a lull to cut their losses and heal.

* * *

**145.**

After two moon turns, the knights were able to transport the Silver Prince to Braavos for treatment, discreetly.

It's a peaceful scene to the eyes but also haunting. And in so many ways disquieting.

Silver blond hair is fanned out on the pillow. His pale hands folded at his stomach showed no signs of movement. Though his organs are functioning normally, a stable condition for someone in a latent state, his health is still in question.

Only time will tell when those pair of indigo eyes would open once again.

* * *

**146.**

" _The exiled prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen is dead after succumbing from the grievous wounds."_

Westeros is informed this knowledge by the Master of Whispers, Lord Varys.

Robert Baratheon is laughing boisterously for days after this good news, and his young bride Cersei of House Lannister suffers through Robert's bout of clingy happiness.

While others have differing opinions about the death of the Silver Prince, one thing is certain. House Baratheon rules Westeros.

For now.

* * *

**147\. Hoster Tully**

He breathes out a much relieved sigh. His gamble of being wilfully blind and tolerant of his ward, Peter Baelish has paid off. House Tully has gain a foothold in two Noble Houses of Westeros: the Stark and Arryn.

Still, Hoster could no longer tolerate Peter's "affections" for his daughters.

Oh, well the Master of Coin is one vacant seat Peter could train himself for. The boy certainly has the cunning and ambition for the game.

For Peter is just another pawn for Hoster's ambition—House Tully is as dutiful as ever to the faith of the Sevens' goals: surely the barbaric tree-worshiping Blood of the First Men Northern populace would be tamed slowly in time within the fold of the Seven as they should be.

* * *

**148\. Rhaegar Targaryen**

It is the same nightmare, one which grows even worse each night.

He pushes himself out of the dreams, but he did not get that far. He is chained and shackled with them always.

"Just let me go."

The words are daggers to his heart.

"You wish to leave me? You owe me at least an explanation."

"This is a mistake. I used you. A sheer madness of my heart that I let your honeyed words to blind me and follow after my heart…"

She looks so heartbreakingly broken and wary of him that it made him mad.

"Don't make me choose, Lyanna."

"And why would I do that? You left once. Now you are leaving hastily again? It's clear as day that I lost more."

_And I have thrown everything away to have you with me!_

"I can see and feel your pulse beats whenever I touch you. So why deny me when you still love me?"

"…You are cruel and selfish."

"We both are."

A haunting broken laughs follows..

It's the same sight.

Smoke rose high onto the darkening sky. On the grounds, the black fumes shrouds the whole place as the blazing inferno rages on mercilessly.

He stumbles forward from an unseen force of power, passing by quickly undeterred into the thick smoke and skims the littering, mutilated bodies of men, their blacken corpses on pools of blood not of their own.

And it is everywhere.

A very familiar silhouette catches his eyes. He stares, frozen in trance at the source of blood.

"I'm sorry."

Eyes slowly flutters open.  _"R-Rhaegar…y-you c-came…"_

"I'm sorry."

In an instant, he finds himself searching for the pulse. Wild fear burst into him as his hands are coloured with blood. There is so much. He cannot not stop the terrible bleeding.

"I'm sorry."

A worn out smile spreads on those pale lips. "I-I'm so t-tired…R-Rhaegar…"

Fear and terror grips his heart. "No! I need you so much. Stay with me..!"

Suddenly, the body slumps on his arms. Cold.

His eyes stares transfixed to the dull and empty eyes. The fire is gone out from them.

"NONONO!..." Mindlessly, he shakes the body with fierce force. "You can't die. I forbid it. You'll never escape from me. You're mine. Mine. MINE."

No response.

His world crumbles in pieces. And for a moment there, he thought, that he too, has died once more.

A soundless howl comes out, as he abandons himself completely to the void of endless, agonizing misery.

Instantaneously, one ferocious force of the warhammer knocks his breath out in one beat.

Blood sprayed the air.

Jealous rage drowns Robert Baratheon's eyes into slits.

The warhammer descends and is about to struck him again.

Then it unexpectedly stops mid-way.

Robert seems to check himself but his raging fury vibrates and translates his body's murderous fury.

A hand grips his throat. "I should kill you and be done with it."

Black spots inks his sight.

Robert looms in. "I will not do it, however. It would be so easy, just a quick couple of slashes and it would be done. But no… as much as I should do that, that's too fast and too merciful."

The hand drops him, he wheezes and topples down.

"Your death won't be enough for me. No. That will never be enough. As you have dishonored a Lord Paramount's daughter, I will banish you from your glorious throne and the entire Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. House Targaryen will never rise again.

Let it be known that Rhaegar Targaryen from House Targaryen is banished from our hearts and minds."

"Just like you have taken her away from me, you will die as nothing, scum." Robert's mouth widens menacingly with dark satisfaction. "Because that is what you are, you know? Nothing.  _You are worth nothing_."

"Begone Rhaegar Targaryen. Such is the will of the King Robert of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of Westeros and the Narrow Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lord of the Eyrie and Lord Protector of the Vale, " Lord Jon Arryn finishes.

* * *

**149.**

Rhaegar wakes up with his nightshirt drenched with cold sweat.

Throwing the bedcovers, he staggers to stand up and takes a long moment to steady his breathing. Sleep would not welcome him, a regular occurrence that keeps on going whenever these nightmares plague him on his rest.

He must live through this pain.

Even if it stung. Excruciatingly so.

* * *

**150\. Barristan Selmy**

"Eddard Stark is a decent man. He and his guards knock the three of us out and spare our lives," Arthur reports in a clipped voice when they meet again in Volantis several moons later.

Barristan eyes the exiled prince who watches them with unreadable expression on his face.

Rhaegar is too quiet. He didn't speak up for his savagely murdered family, lost brother and sister. He stays unnervingly calm and did not even try to defend himself when Prince Lewyn's justified foul temper turns in him when the discussion of Princess Elia comes to head.

At present, Rhaegar is sitting on the bed, eyes unseeing somewhere in space that only he seemed to be aware of.

Barristan did not know what to think of him.

And that bothers him in so many ways.

The only time Rhaegar reacts is when Arthur adds on his report, "Lyanna gave birth to twins."

Rhaegar stills and finally centers his attention at that. The look he gives to Arthur is that of an order.

"A girl and a boy. Visenya and Aemon." Arthur pauses before he tacks on, "Lyarra and Jon Snow are bastard twins claimed by the Lord Paramount of the North."

Rhaegar slowly blinks.

* * *

**151.**

Rhaegar formally dismisses them in service that same day.

Hell breaks loose after that.

Heated words are exchanged.

However, Barristan Selmy, Oswell Whent, Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, and  _even_  Prince Lewyn Martell  _lingers on._

For Rhaegar Targaryen who looks so vulnerable like a lost child and this knowledge alters their viewpoints of him.

Kingsguards of a disgraced and exiled prince or not, do not simply resign their service.

Moreover, they would never accept an Usurper King anointed by the blood of the innocent children, rape and murder of the Princess of Dorne, and—they discovered six moons later—has honored Tywin Lannister a new bride—Rhaella Lannister.

By offering subservience to the Usurper King, that act is against their knightly vows.

* * *

**152\. Rhaegar Targaryen**

_Where should I go from here?_   _If only I can turn time back. If only I can…_

He is drowning from the weight of guilt, remorse, and self-loathing.

The duty asked of him, is too much.

Rhaegar could not stand the stares of the knights.

_He has changed._

After all, something that is broken sometimes cannot be repaired.

Dread fills him as things and bonds fall apart.

And all that remains is the infinite, unforgiving cold of the unknown.

* * *

**153.**

Then Jon Connington who is carrying a sleeping very young child arrives and takes one look at Rhaegar and  _very_ gently places said child to a stunned Rhaegar's arm.

"You already failed the Queen, Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys. Don't fail your firstborn son, Aegon and your siblings for their sakes."

The rather blunt revelation and firm reminder drives Rhaegar out of his funk.

At this change, relieved sighs are shared in the room.

* * *

**154\. Oswell Whent**

A day after that epiphany and weighing the pros and cons of a search, the solution to turns out to be simple: find Daenerys and Viserys and Ser Willem Darry first.

Several moons later, the knights are back on the  _Shy Maid_ with a negative answer to the search.

A cruel cosmic joke is being played over them. It is a demented game just about chasing a mouse which is out of reach and sight.

And no one in Rhaegar's company found it amusing.

Roughly speaking, the prince, is twice as much as dangerous and mercurial than before. More now than ever.

 _Well, that happened after Rhaegar recovered by drinking his way to death that is. And nearly killing himself in the training yard, not so in order,_  Oswell Whent's inner voice summarizes dryly inside his head.

The only saving grace is the fact that Rhaegar's losses that swept the Targaryen empire to waste has instead made the guilt and sorrow morphs into something durably stronger and a better father to his young son, Aegon, Sixth of His Name.

Together with Rhaegar, Oswell and his brothers-at-arms have high hopes for the young dragon.

* * *

**154.**

The humans are not the only ones watching.

There are numbers, primeval sentient presences that walk once in the human plane as they appeared as they are in all their terrible truest form. Some take forms they like to commune with the humans.

Valyria is one of this  _Numbers._

Valyria has no eyes like the kind humans have—so shortsighted and blinded by hindsight. What Valyria has is a perception so deep, Valyria can sense the hearts and and minds and souls of everyone in the Human Plane, and Valyria is in tune with their Firstborns and humans they are bonded and those within Valyria's territory.

However, Valyria is very particular with the  _Chosen,_ the founder of the Valyrian Empire, the same person that made legions of other humans to bind themselves with fealty and protection through the  _Oath-taking of Servitude._

The first chosen, people soon hailed as  _Dragonborn_ had unified the legions of humans in Valyria under one rule, his. The magic wielders of that time served none but him. Every Valyrian bloodline was sworn to them, there couldn't be a new Dragonborn as there was only one  _Chosen._

The Dragonborn lasted to reign for more than a thousand of years.

After that, the  _Chosen_  somehow used what he needed to reign and stabilize the Valyrian Empire but never went deeper than that, and the  _Chosen_  intended to be as inconspicuous as much as possible for the Valyrians to stand on their own.

And by the time that the  _Dragonborn_ disappear without a trace, Valyrians have flourish so well that there came in new generations of humans, pledge-free from the  _Dragonborn's Oath of Servitude_ for there was no Valyria's Chosen to sworn to.

Either way, not just anyone could become the  _Chosen._

Moreover, the Dragonlords from the new generation were humans still, they grew arrogant. It seemed that Dragonlords would rather choose to forget in keeping faith of their honour.

Then Doom of Valyria came upon the Dragonlords.

(Valyria, the Fallen kingdom is set ablaze by itself.)

Valyria rages, mourns and regrets for centuries as the Human World waits and waits.

And there is Visenya Targaryen Second of her name from House Stark and House Targaryen. A prophesize weapon and pawn on the game before she is even born, duty-bounded as the entire races of both magical's and non-magical's sacrificial lamb from the moment of her conception.

Visenya the Second barely has start to life before the Song of Ice and Fire mandated her life. Her destiny is forlorn.

Visenya is  _beyond_  remarkable.

Valyria has taken interest of this one old soul, and watches her more often than necessary. Visenya is a strange one, far more interesting than anyone else. She did not see power as her birthright, she does not want the glory and power—someone who sees that being on the pedestal is much as a pain in the ass.

At her core Visenya is  _driven._

Valyria observes this old soul fall and fall in most lifetimes, near-death after near-death _, but this old soul claws his/her ways though it all for the_ devoted love for his family; thirst for recognition and approval; sweat and tears; nights without an hour of rest; days toiling in learning-labor-sparring; joy of acceptance; victory after victory; faces of rivals and enemies that haunted his dreams; pain of loneliness; rejection; raw emotions from being left behind; breaking of bonds; running away; struggling hope; solitude of distance; new chances; the reunions; utter defeat; fighting back; determination; the driven will after death and so much death, and yet this old soul down by no small amount of loss and grief never tires out to share her tired heart still so big weighed and despite everything it suffered through.

There is so much courage that it is so breathtakingly beautiful as much as it is tragically heartbreaking  _to see._

But the twins' life in Winterfell…

Valyria loathes the cold and its biting indifference of the North and most Westeros' carelessness of innocent bastard children, and with the Old Ones there dormant by the diluted and weakening magic in the land.

It is…an  _absolute hell_.

Valyria stirs from grief and seethes. _How dare they._

Life is never fair.

Death the stuffy fucker favors the old soul in Visenya in ways that is  _unhealthy._

Visenya and her twin Aemon as one is without the other deserves much the least Valyria can do for the  _odds_  to be in the  _twins' favor_.

So Valyria makes the choice and  _pulls._

Reborn from the ashes of destruction after destruction, Visenya and whatever her name was relates to Valyria in ways no one else was,  _and found her worthy._

* * *

**155\. Benjen Stark**

(At first, he begrudge the twins for being alive while his beloved sister, elder brother, lord father died by the whims of royal blood.

Second, he hates his brother, Ned for circumventing said honor and still upholds the North's belief of accepting baseborn children within their fold. The same brother who forgot Lyanna and her stubborn will in the face of Robert Baratheon's binding promise of brotherhood.

Third, hating said brother is very tiring and Benjen falls in love with the twins simply because they are so terribly easy to love.

And seeing Lyarra and Jon tempered by icy logic curtails the wolf's wildness even as they act like him and Lyanna when they were still children always holds Benjen's thoughts for himself alone.

Benjen has his suspicions but his assumptions as the twins take too much after his brother Ned's qualities have even fooled him.)

A pair of grey eyes stares at the heart tree.

He hesitates.

Why is he doing this time and time again? Does he really need another more rejection? Does  _the twins_  really need more rebuff from  _them_?

It is certainly pointless that much Benjen knows very well.

But.

He is not doing this for himself. It is for  _the twins_ _._  The very least he can do for them is to do it himself even if it means another letdown.

Did they  _always_  have to do it? The thought is saddening. And infuriating.

Money is never a problem. That issue which they use as an excuse is becoming a bag of old news to his ears. Those two deserved a good tongue-lashing, but Benjen's tangent tirades and protestations cut no ice though out the years.

A shadow casts over his face.

It isn't the twins fault to be born as baseborn children of the North.

And it hurts his niece and nephew  _so_  much.

Benjen is afraid at this juncture, the twins' hearts will completely grow colder with each passing days after years of inattention and rejection from the Stark patriarch and matriarch. And Benjen is doing everything he can to give the twins the love they deserve but it isn't enough.

He can only watch out for the breaking point of this withdrawal helplessly.

A distinctive set of footsteps break Benjen's depressing train of thoughts and he spins around to face Lyarra when a breathtaking but haunting sight holds his breath.

A just turned five namedays old little girl stands in front of him.

Inwardly, Benjen shivers how unsettling it is to be the focal point of a Lyarra's eyes because they seem to see through one's heart knowing its darkest secrets. With sinking feeling, Benjen also realizes that now Lyarra has those apathetic and cold eyes.

 _Is it already too late? Have they finally managed to drive her far away to the point of no return?_ He thinks in despair.

"Nuncle," Lyarra says softly in monotone eyes strong and resolute gaze at Benjen's, "I would like to go outside for fresh air."

"Of course, Lyarra." Benjen hears his voice answering back faintly, his eyes bore into his niece's back in probing intensity.

He is not sure what to make of this instantaneous change.

* * *

**155\. Sansa Stark**

_"What I simply want is to be love,_

_For someone to care is all I need,_

_Is that too much to ask?_

_But my cries have fallen to deaf ears,_

_My muted screams are ignored,_

_In this wait, I end up being hurt._

_And soon my exhausted heart can't bear no more._

_This feeling of abandonment and loneliness reverse to hate,_

_In this hate, indifference will be my ally,"_  Sansa tries to read haltingly the words.

She finds this note in the library and is taken by the beautiful handwriting.

She does not know who wrote it but she keeps the parchment inside her diary.

She does not realize it yet that the message is a cry for help.

She does not discern until many years later that this parchment will be the first and the last hint of the  _Ice Princess'_  beginning.

* * *

**156\. Brynden Rivers**

He feels hopeful and conflicted at the same time for he has seen both the best and worst of Daemon in the twins.

For no one deserved to be condemned and chained inside a gilded cage as much as his blood allowed them to (as spares) just simply because the potential of the twins are immense. Both twins of the she-wolf and the exiled Silver Prince the living personified song of ice and fire.

_The Prince That Was Promised_

Personally, Brynden all his dragon-cunningness, ruthlessness and manipulative principles, he did not have any ounce of wish for the twins to be claimant of The Iron Throne nor does he wants them to bow down to the Children of the Forest's prophecy.

Enough dragons have suffered and bled for Westeros.

The twins deserve much better than that.

And it is with no little satisfaction that Brynden watches the twins grow and become their own individual person, specifically, Visenya hatches a three-headed dragon, Visenya training her physical and magical abilities, and finally deciding to leave Winterfell much to The Children of the Forest frightened alarm.

Even as he envies the twins' bid for freedom, Brynden smiles toothily and cheers for their success quietly.

* * *

**157\. Robb Stark**

When he goes back to his room after sending Lya-Visenya and Jo-Aemon off, Robb is nearly blinded by gold and stand there gaping for a long moment and grasp the immediate need for privacy.

He locks the door and finds a note hanged like a banner to be seen first. He reads,

_Invest it well._

_-V_

_PS: Moat Cailin needs to be restored and the Grand Northern Fleet would be a great help to wars that may come._

Robb estimates the amount of gold and other precious jewel. Well, the latter would make Theon happy.

Robb nods and decide to inform Arya and Bran of their new quest.

It is a good distraction for the twins' noticeable absence.

* * *

**158\. Sansa Stark**

She is more happy than usual. Today, she is the Lady In-charge of the Castellan after mother.

And her first job is to make rounds before breaking fast.

Sansa knocks the door of Lyarra's room.

"Lyarra! Jon! Breakfast is ready!" she calls.

No answer.

She knocks again, "Lyarra? Jon?"

Still, no answer.

A vein pops in her temple, as Sansa spontaneously combust. "LYARRA! JON! WAKE UP AL— Huh?" she trails off when her eyes are greeted with the immaculately clean room with no Lyarra inside.

Well, then maybe her elder sister is in the training yard.

Oblivious, Sansa continues on her way to call her other siblings.

Lyarra is not around when they take the first meal of the day. It is nothing unusual. What is unusual is Jon is not around.

Then at lunch, the twins did not appear.

At dinner, the twins still did not appear.

When this disappearing routine continues for days and nights, Sansa is beginning to worry.

Sansa observes however, that her brothers and sister did not look worried at all and mother seems happier.

Everything seems to be all right then.

* * *

**159.**

_I miss you both._

_Winterfell seems more cold and dreary since you were gone._

_A lot of things need to be done._

_Can you ask her to make a design of Moat Caitlin?_

_Dragons should be made welcome in the North as well._

* * *

**160.**

_I found the charms._

_Father is still not around._

_I give mother hers as MY gift._

_You are right._

_PS: Aemon gave me a Needle. I need an instructor that will take me seriously like you._

_PS II: Robb is helping me write this. Bran is also asking when can you give us something easier and sooner to write to you._

* * *

**161\. Catelyn Stark**

She is not blind.

Her still young firstborn son, Robb is—there is no other word for it— _pining_ **.**  Except a new project is distracting him to wallow in misery and Theon is excited as he follows him around.

Arya and Bran seem to be invigorated in scouring and studying in the library and training with Ser Rodrick.

Baby Rickon is restless and takes most of her attention

Sansa is simply content with the routines.

Catelyn discerns the four with the exception of Rickon are organizing something.

It takes a very long time for Catelyn to realize two persons are missing. ( _Why would she cares? The twins are not her very own children.)_

She is too blind to realize how her disregard for the twins has make Robb and Arya gradually coming to comprehend that she does not simply care for the twins' welfare.

* * *

**162\. Benjen Stark**

A bob of the head and a caw and the raven skips for its treat.

He opens the letter and begins to read:

_Dear Uncle Benjen,_

_If we stay, grave danger lies in wait for our cousins and the Stark name would fell in disgrace. Until all of our Sire's enemies are neutralized, we will never find peace._

Benjen hides the letter. The dark cast on his face makes everyone in Castle Black veers away from him when he goes on his way to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch for permission to talk with his brother.

When it is granted, he makes his way to Winterfell.

* * *

**163\. Eddard Stark**

He did not notice it first.

Perhaps it is because no one among his children didn't seem to be bothered by the disappearance of the twins.

Perhaps it is because he fools himself of his wife's benevolence extends to  _'his naturalborn'_  twins and trust her to care for them.

Perhaps it is because being an unprepared and still learning Lord Paramount of the North takes too much of his time that his piles of paperwork are not yet finished to be read and examine.

Perhaps for the last for several moon turns which he spend dealing visitations of the Northern lords houses to foster goodwill and after that he returns to Winterfell

The last parchment with an unrecognized beautiful handwriting he reads and the gold that pours endlessly from a simple purse after dinner enlightens Ned that same night.

_To Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell,_

_We know of_ _blue winter roses and blood accompanied our birth._

Ned frowns deeply. And he reads the letter, growing more horror-struck and concern as he goes further.

 _We know the cold fury and well hidden revulsion that is soon covered by a father's love and link by a promise made to a sister who you never knew so well._ And by this love _, it is our duty to protect the Stark from the forces which would demand your death and the pack. We don't want yours and their blood on our_ _already_ _tainted hands. We must leave if not for our sake then to the debt we owe_ _much_ _to the Starks. Our sire sinned and had made enemies which we have inherited. Dragonspawn is on season for the hunt. We learned of innocent children and a raped and murdered princess had anointed a kinslaying cousin, grandchild of Rhaelle Targaryen. Our eyes_ _are opened_ _and just honor could no longer_ _ignore_ _this._

_My advice to you, Nuncle, is to build and unite the North's strength and power. The pack is not alone. The treasury is funded with due honesty. Robb has already taken it to himself to restore Moat Cailin and build the Grand Northern Fleet._

_May yours and ours do not stand on opposite sides._

_-Visenya and Aemon, twin children of Princess Lyanna Stark_

Ned is stunned to temporary silence as the full meaning sunk of the letter _—warnings and a threat—_ into him. He feels so torn by the mess of emotions the letter has pulled from him.

Then an unexpected slam of the opening door of his solar makes Ned to flinch and grimace at the foreboding look on his younger brother's face.

Wordlessly, Ned passes the letter to Benjen to read and watches everything clicks to his brother.

"By all the gods, Ned," Benjen eventually murmurs staring at Ned like it is the very first time they have met and get to know each other. "I did not know you had it in you to condemn innocent children of our own flesh and blood. How could you do this to Lyanna's twins?"

Ned closes his eyes.

… _We know the cold fury and well hidden revulsion that is soon covered by a father's love and link by a promise made to a sister who you never knew so well._

"I hated Rhaegar Targaryen," Ned openly answers, for the very first time, this feeling he has kept locked all these years is fully verbalized. "From what little I know, Lyanna's desperate measures made her vulnerable to Rhaegar's plan. He did not want a son. He wants his beloved Visenya  _at all cost_. Our fierce sister was nothing more than a means to an end. Still, she—"

"—fell madly in love with all reckless abandoned of the consequences to her grief." Benjen bleakly finishes.

For a long time, silence echoes in the solar after those words are spoken. The brothers are worried as they contemplate the possible fate of their deceased sister's twin children.

Ned closes his eyes recalling word for word of the warning behind the words:  _Our eyes_ _are opened_ _and just honor could no longer_ _ignore_ _this._

He was sure that the twins would get more ruthless, he has no doubt about that. The wild wolf blood and the fiery passion of a dragon, it makes one volatile mix. He could only hope that those that the twins would find someone good enough to anchored them. He could only hope that even if the twins would pursue just honor as they kill.

 _Benjen is of the same mind as he recites and comments,_ _"May yours and ours do not stand on opposite sides—the twins reach their breaking point._ We can only hope that Stark honor would serve as their anchor."

Feeling the heavy weight of the thinly veiled threat, Ned must brace himself for the twins seems to vie for the southron games that could only mean—

"Looks like I got my work cut out for me. Under no circumstances, I would not take heed of their advice to build a strong united North."

Satisfied, Benjen squares his shoulders and stares straightly at Ned. "Shall we continue committing treason, brother?" he asks as pragmatic as ever.

_(The visible elephant of rightful blame and justified anger still simmers but is ignored dutifully by a firm reminder of the twins that they want a strong undivided North)._

Ned's mind flash back to the past that he will never ever forget:

_A beaten black and blue Stannis Baratheon, who failed to contain Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys and at wit's end newly crowned king…_

Tywin Lannister, honored by a bridal gift…

"… _Your father's cousin, your aunt Rhaella is still alive, Your Grace."_

" _What shall be done with her?"_

"… _That's right! Lady Joanna! I remember! Your golden significant other stolen by the Mad King himself! How about taking the dragon queen, my goodfather for yourself!_

_That woman will do as I the King—her nephew bids her as it is her duty to the Crown."_

To abandon the younger Baratheons for justified revenge and arrange a marriage for one twisted blood debt are another, Ned's eyes are  _forcibly_  opened by Robert's heartless depravity of kinslaying that day.

_Princess Rhaenys' body in grotesque view of torture made by stabbing…_

_Prince Aegon's brain and parts of it are leaking bloody…_

_Robert laughing in boisterous glee and saying all over again, "Death to dragonspawns!"_

Ned will  _never_  forgive Robert for that unjust cruel callousness to glorify the slaughter of innocent children. For his promise to a dying beloved sister, Lyanna.

_"Ned, y-you have to p-promise m-me t-to keep t-them s-safe, d-do not l-let R-Robert e-ever see them. T-those p-poor children..I-Innocent c-children, j-judged by t-the a-actions of t-their f-father."_

Lyanna was not wrong.

_Princess Elia Martell's almost unrecognizable face painted with suffering, mouth wide opened in muted horror, heavily bruised body_ _still covered in the blood and brains of her son,_ _twisted limbs in disproportionate location, degraded womanly parts, and helpless set of wide eyes begging for any help…_

_Some part of Ned that has been bred pragmatic wondered what Robert will do to Lyanna if he finds out about the secret…his nightmares made up for the worst possibilities._

_To callously laugh and enjoy the death of a raped woman and innocent children like they are worth nothing and easily disposable, Ned would not forgive that and decided_ right and there _to wash his hands of Robert Baratheon_ for good.

The Kings of Winter's descendants might have bent their knees but they remember and hold their grudges no matter how long it takes, and they are ever watchful to those who are disloyal and unfaithful to their blood and vows.

Ned also has remembered the core foundation of the Stark's honor.

"The North would declare to a dragon that protects those that cannot protect themselves. Nothing more and nothing less as the North deserves," Ned firmly decides.

Benjen smirks drily at that. "At least you set your priorities straight. Including your heir."

Ned blinks and rereads the letter again to find if he missed something. And one line catches his eyes.

_Robb has already taken it to himself to restore Moat Cailin and build the Grand Northern Fleet._

The full implication of this single statement leaves him a lead.

His firstborn child has a lot to answer for.

* * *

**164\. Benjen Stark**

Ned summons the children to his solar one night excluding his wife.

(When Benjen asks why, Ned answer is this:

"My mistrust of her from the beginning is not unfound it seems. The twins disappear right under her watch. Robb and Arya just told me that Catelyn honestly did not care at all. And I'm afraid to seek the truth of her pettiness."

"…It is not fair for her. Half of the blame lies on your feet, brother."

"Your defence of her is a surprise, Benjen."

"Even if she did  _not_ try that much to care for the twins, a house divided is not good for the children, and we need all the help we can have for the North to be strong," Benjen suggests in a pragmatic tone.

"But the secrecy of the twins' birth parents stands, still."

"Robb, Arya and Bran knows, I think."

"Then let us make sure the secret stays that way."

"So, children, mind telling me what the twins are up to?"

_Ned and Benjen enjoys the sprays of milk all over the table as Robb, Theon, Arya, and Bran cough and splutters in shock as one much to Catelyn's and Sansa's confusion._

"F-Father?" Robbs feigns confusion.

"The twins are missing for a long time," Benjen clarifies bluntly. "Security in Winterfell is severely lacking—"

Icy looks stab a shamefaced Catelyn.

"—and your Lord Father must fill the necessary gaps if they are kidnap by someone."

Ned admires how Robb, Arya and Bran give the right amount of alarm at the news, while Theon and Sansa shows varying level of distress.

Ned could tell that Robb, Arya and Bran are more alarm at his reaction like fury for the missing twins. He is also proud of their loyalty and concern why Sansa has been deliberately excluded. Theon is understandable.

Then Ned remembers how Sansa emulates her mother's behavior with the twins and how she envies Lyarra's Ice Princess title.

Ned's heart sinks.

Sansa is still a child, she would learn. As for Catelyn's influence—

It seems there is no time to confront Catelyn's negligence for now and fur her behavior to be curtailed; Ned has a search to lead even if the missing persons did not want to be found.

* * *

**165.**

In the North, copies of a missive about the missing Lord Paramount's twins and an order to find them whole and alive with fifty thousand Dragons for each twin as a reward are sent through the ravens. The North Houses complies and send their riders with hounds have been sent to comb all directions.

The missive and order happens to the Riverrun, the Eyrie, Casterly Rock, the Reach, the Storm's End, and Dorne.

The widespread search last for three moons.

As the search lengthens, everyone is on edge for another war to erupt as this is the second time someone foolhardily mess with the North.

Bastard children they are, the twins are beloved children of the head of House Stark.

However to no avail, Eddard Stark naturalborn twins are not found anywhere and no one comes forward to claim they have them.

At the result, the people of Westeros wait with bated breath of the  _Quiet Wolf's_  next move.

The Lord Paramount and Warden of the North decides to stop the search after another moon turn passes by with still twins unfound, and then Eddard Stark focus to strengthen the defences of the North, and built the Northern Fleet.

To anyone else, this act is a little too late resort of a grieving father.

To others, shock and envy of no little amount grips them as the North spends thousands of Dragons to fortify their castellans, one stronghold of reputable name—Moat Cailin is restored, big glass houses multiplies, and the North Grand Fleet breeds in numbers.

To business-minded people, one particular trading that continues to bring fortune to the North is the trading large blocks of white snow that cools and improves drinks and preserves vegetable and meat when stored properly.

This transformation displays a message about the North.

_The North_ _remembers._

And pity the fool who wakes the slumbering gigantic wolf that prefers to stay quiet than to howl his fury.

* * *

**166\. Arthur Dayne**

"We came a little too late," Ser Oswell Whent reports in professional monotone.

Arthur could in reality see the gradual disintegration of the legendary three Cs (cool collected calmness) of Rhaegar. It is only through practiced unruffled composure that helped Arthur to maintain stoicism. Anything less to manage in cornered weakness is bound to catastrophe when it's Rhaegar who caught one's epic fail.

Throughout the years of Arthur's service as member of the sellswords—the Golden Company, to the exiled Silver Prince and before and in present association, to kill or be killed is in the job description.

As it is, blood splatters all over the floor and the walls barely resemble whatever is left of the traitorous informant who looks like roadkill.

And when Rhaegar retaliated in offense, it is done in a cold, detached summary execution.

In summary: Almost thirteen years and still counting, Rhaegar has gone metaphorically ballistic over the search for his siblings. Even after scouring high and low, the end result is the same. Ser Willem Darry, Princess Daenerys and Prince Viserys have not yet been found. For a trio who is reportedly been said to live in squalor and begged in the Free Cities, there is no easy way to find them. Additionally, Rhaegar's twins have left the protection of Lord Stark. And no one knew if they are alive or not.

It is like the five are a dream that fades into far reality and left a nightmare on its wake.

As a result, an unhappy Rhaegar meant stone-cold misery for the rest of the Golden Company's job tenure.

And as Rhaegar's close comrades (Barristan Selmy, Oswell Whent, Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, and Prince Lewyn Martell) they have to deal with the man.

It is terrifyingly disturbing to see how Rhaegar changed so much. Since the day the exiled prince is driven out of his funk by Conninton, no one is exempted to the tenfold icy displeasure air Rhaegar Targaryen has all but bathe himself on.

Rhaegar is nothing like Aerys the Mad King.

Rhaegar has become the second coming and the best if not the worst of Maegor the Cruel.

* * *

**167\. Catelyn Stark**

She has more time to reflect these days.

It seems like the only thing she could do.

Benjen Stark has never taken the vow of the Night's Watch. Instead, he is the sole emissary of the North, and chooses the Night's Watch as his main headquarters as Catelyn finds out later.

Benjen also has been recalled by Eddard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North to act as Chief Overseer as well as House Stark's emissary. The bulk of Winterfell household affairs are also course-through Benjen after the twins have gone fleeing from her.

Benjen is also Catelyn's instructor on how a Northern woman must act as befitting of the Lord Paramount's lady much to both of their cool civility.

Her lord father tires himself in rage after the missing twins debacle is aired out.

It is then that the entire six kingdoms of Westeros except the North finally finds out about the legend of twins born out of the Blood of the First Men. It also did not matter if they are bastard children or not as long as they are of Kings of Winter's blood.

Northern legend says that when twins are born from the Kings of Winter's bloodline, great change is coming—so great is the change that it will  _reshape the world_  and heralds the end or new beginning.

Whether it is good or bad change is unknown. The promise of twins' greatness however, is true.

And the North is not alone in this. Dorne holds the same belief of the twins' foretold greatness. It is why Dorne fully accepts their bastard children with no discrimination.

This factual legend of two polar opposite kingdoms of winter and sun is a severe douse of cold water or hot water to every follower of the Seven.

A lot of perception change that day of revelation.

It is even more nailed bluntly by the desperate search the entire North has pulled through for the Stark twins.

It is also the day the Northern House's lords and ladies has aired out their displeasure to Catelyn Tully.

 _Foreign invader,_  they label her straight to her face.

"I did not know! Ned has never told me anything," Catelyn throws defensively right back at them.

"We know of your father's ambition and how he recovered it by marrying you to Lord Eddark Stark, the second son," Roose Bolton tells her frostily. "The twins have enough expectations to wade through. Another from a riverlander who has no right to butt his nose into the North's affairs is intolerable."

"You're a stranger in these lands, Lady Stark and your House words are  _Family, Duty, Honor_  which enough to sway the others that you would know your place and at the least  _try to see through_  the twins' naturalborn status," Maege Mormont says her rebuke so bluntly like a slap to her face.

Great Jon Umber grunts. "Ned has never told anyone about the identity of the mother, you know. And suffice to say his distrust to you, my lady, is not unfound."

The others' silence is sufficient as agreement with the two.

And Catelyn angry and ashamed of herself did not say anything.

"You must thank the Stark twins, my lady."

All turn at Rickard Karstark who is reading a parchment with a brow rising. When he finishes he shares to them word for word:

"'A treasury entrusted to Robb Stark is funded. An counsel perceived as a command  _to build and unite the North's strength and power, restore what needs to be restored and build the Grand Northern Fleet. May yours and ours do not stand on opposite sides.' The same message is sent to all Northern houses." Lord Rickard finishes_ with a look of determination to accomplish his task. "This charge from the Stark twins is your only saving grace, my lady."

 _Do not disappoint them._ All but echo in the air between the lord and ladies of the North.

Catelyn now realizes it is not disdain that she sees from the North in regards with the twins. Their looks are of cautious hope of the legend's warning of end or new beginning for the North.

Catelyn now understands why the North people is both wary and ever watchful of the twins that it borders on not caring what the twins do as long as they are visibly still in the North.

_Family, Duty, Honor_

"I will do what I must for winter is coming," Catelyn nearly chokes from how binding her House words are on her.

But she admits her fault, and slowly but surely in time she will earn the respect of the North.

* * *

**168.**

And there are other people across the Narrow Sea who are also making their own move.

* * *

**169.**

In Pentos, a pact has taken place.

Aegon Targaryen bows and places a kiss on the back of his betrothed's hand. "My Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, My Lord," a blushing young Rhaenyra Blackfyre, daughter of Magister Illyrio Mopatis replies courteously.

Illyrio Mopatis studies this exchange with shrewd eyes. "Shall we discuss business, my Silver Prince?"

Rhaegar inclines his head. "We shall."

* * *

**170\. Sansa Stark**

She just turns eleven and there are facts in life that stays the same.

One, Arya just couldn't accept that she could never be a knight or a warrior like Nymeria and Visenya of olden times.

She and Arya are highborn ladies of House Stark. They are meant for grand castles and keeps, not battles and bloodshed. But all the same father obliges Arya's wildness much to mother's disagreement.

Two, then there is graceful and serene Lyarra who could never go wrong in Father's eyes and is obviously the most beloved among the Stark children because she is given so much freedom by her mother and she can do whatever she want.

_(Sansa did not understand the difference of neglected child from being a golden-spooned child.)_

Three, Lyarra is the favourite sibling of most Stark children. Jon is always supportive of Lyarra. Arya and Bran follow and worship the ground Lyarra walks on like a lost duckling. Robb both admires and respects Lyarra.  _(Even Theon holds Lyarra in high esteem.)_

" _I'll ask Lyarra first."_

" _Lyarra never puts me down with words so she could make herself feel better."_

" _Lyarra sings and dances so well."_

" _Lyarra can do it if she wants to."_

Fourth, Jon and Lyarra are bastard twin children and Sansa is trueborn daughter of House Stark, but that did not matter. The twins maybe gone from Winterfell but their absence is keenly felt by the people who matters like Father, Uncle Benjen, Robb, Arya, and Bran.

Even their youngest sibling, Rickon would favor Lyarra and Jon if he ever meets the twins.

Against all this facts, Sansa feels she could never measure up against Lyarra.

In the end, what hurts Sansa the most is to know that she has no worth as a sister to Ice Princess Lyarra who stares everyone down to protect Jon and Arya and Bran. And sometimes Robb and Theon.

_(Sansa is not aware of the distaste the Tully's servants has of Jon for being born a bastard, and for Arya acting and disgracing Western highborn ladies' standards. Robb and Bran for looking so Tully-like that it sullied how a Northern Lord Paramount should look like Blood of the First Men. Theon Greyjoy for being an Ironborn that itches and rubs the rest off.)_

Sansa choose her mother more than she loves Lyarra  _(that is why there is always this tangible wall between them)._

Sansa wipes her tears. But that's not true.

She has proof of Lyarra's and Jon's love—a necklace that is according to Arya is charm by magic ( _and it is magic!_ When she wore it and desires to hide, _she could._ When she got hurt _, she heals._ And Sansa keeps the magic charm a secret though she knows her other siblings knows as well and keeps their silence about it. _The Seven says magic is evil. Bad. But how is it bad and evil when it did nothing less than to protect her and her family?)._

And Sansa secretly and terribly misses the twins just as much as the others.

* * *

**171.**

In Winterfell solar, a raven flies in bearing a letter without signature.

_We want to make sure Arya and Bran (maybe Robb or Sansa if they want to) have anything you need, anything that could help, for the pack to survive even as a lonewolf._

Ned sighs soundly at this piece of uncompromising advice, but instincts told him to follow the advice. Stark's of the past are greenseers. It is only fitting for such magical ability to be back through the joining of two powerful Houses with history of magic running in their blood.

* * *

**172.**

If two of them aren't all intensely competitive in their own right, this wouldn't be so worth it.

"Five times around to go! Then drills in the pool! Bran you'll be working with your upper body strength today. Arya, you'll be working on your stamina even more after this!" Syrio Forel instructs relentlessly at them.

"Torture," Bran wheezes as they gasp for air at the end of thirty nonstop rounds in the practice yard.

"We ask for training. What else did you expect a soft bed to sleepover?" Arya retorts tartly.

"Break's over! Seeing you have the strength enough to complain."

A few feet away from them, a little bit well-rested Sansa groans and glares at them.

Arya and Bran gulp as one.

* * *

**173\. Catelyn Stark**

Catelyn now lives with the rest of her own children's lingering distrust of her, even Sansa pulls away from her **.**

Only Rickon, her wild boy is her comfort. Simply because he did not know the twins yet.

But in years her family's righteous anger cooled and bitterness diminished.

However, Ned Stark still has never told her anything about the twins' birth mother.

When she confronted Ned, he left her shaken from his icy rage.

"I have to thank you, Catelyn. You forced me to see the truth of my idiocy, you forced me to accept that I cared too much, that I  _offered_  too much to cater your sensibilities and standards."

Ned pauses, a lull in the discomforting silence.

"BUT THEY ARE MY BLOOD! MY CHILDREN!" Ned all but roared.

The suddenness of such icy rage makes Catelyn to flinch back shakily as if burned.

Ned's eyes flashes barely restrained anger mixed with fear and regret and pain even as his voice lowers down. "But it's all thanks to you that the twins finally choose to cut their losses and doing so they save their selves."

Catelyn _stares._ For the very first time, she has seen this turbulent emotion from Ned. She did not know he has that level of emotion, about anything.

For the twins to evoke this far more emotional side of the known Quiet Wolf, Eddard Stark, Catelyn feels herself shrinking small. This also is a proof on how she never gets the sense that he loves her as passionately as he loves his twins and her children.

But Catelyn has grown to love him. A love that could not hold a candle against Ned's steadfast love, the same love that makes Ned to rebel for his beloved sister's honor, the way he loves the twins' mother to drive him to such passions that made Ned to throw the Stark honor he is so known for.

What is it with the twins, who'd stolen her husband's heart and toss it without care and has nearly cut their losses with the North?

Catelyn has this strange feeling that with the Blood of the First Men and Kings of Winter that reigned for eight thousand years running into their veins, and judging the North's reverent view of the legend, the twins Lyarra and Jon Snow possesses the most terrifying power that is only going to flourish stronger as they grow.

As if being summon by her thoughts, the charm from Arya unexpectedly feels heavy against her neck.

_May yours and ours do not stand on opposite sides._

_Catelyn wilts from this reminder._ _What have I done?!_

* * *

**174\. Robb Stark**

"My half-brother takes off with your sister," Domeric Bolton, who just returned from the Vale after years of being fostered there quietly shares out of the blue after cornering Robb in one of the narrowed halls of Winterfell after the Northern Heirs assembly is finished that same day.

Remembering the House Bolton's infamous skill in flaying, Robb winces. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Ramsay seems happy," Domeric admits cryptically and he proceeds to position himself by Robb's  _left side_  which distracts him from asking what Visenya is up to these days.

A quick review of his lessons, reminds Robb that a left-hand, is a person who is involved with the dark side of the law and they are completely unbiased of doing what needs to be done using back-hand methods or otherwise.

This action gives Robb one severe case of creeps and he did not know whether to cry or laugh hysterically in horror from this deliberate beginning of friendship.

* * *

**175.**

That night…

Robb finds no comfort from Aemon and Visenya's very  _short_ letter.

_Dear Robb,_

_Bond with heirs and foster the goodwill of small folks. A division is easier to tear down._

And keep your enemies closer.

_-V & A_

Still, Robb follows this advice at heart and mind. He is also keenly aware that Aemon has his lips sealed shut whatever they are up to these past few years.

* * *

**176\. Brynden Rivers**

Without warning, Brynden is then bombarded by an incredible velocity he has ever known as the air grows distinctly warm in the North itself.

Across the skies, thunders roll through the darkening puffy white clouds.

The tide rises and change course.

The earth and fauna seems to breathe as if alive.

Brynden has seen the wonders of magic.

Brynden has seen both the good and bad of magic.

Brynden feels that whatever is happening changes everything.

* * *

**177.**

Then everyone regardless of blood and distances hears the **[Voice.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VrGeTzUjtGI)**

In Westeros and lands across the Narrow Sea, it is with sheer disbelief and awestruck silence that makes everyone pay attention for the _utterly_  captivating  **Voice**  is astoundingly amplified.

_Do vahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin_

_Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!_

_Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan_

_Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!_

_Our hero, our hero_

_Claims a warrior's heart_

_I tell you, I tell you_

_The Dragonborn comes_

_With a voice wielding power_

_Of the ancient Nord Art_

_Believe, believe_

_The Dragonborn comes_

_It's an end to the evil_

_Of all Skyrim's foes_

_Beware, beware_

_The Dragonborn comes_

_For the darkness has passed_

_And the legend yet grows_

_You'll know, you'll know_

_The Dragonborn's come_

The ** _Voice_**  is like a ripple in the seas, like an echo that spreads, like light that enlightens, like wind that is free, as dawn breaks the Call rolls across the lands, to faraway lands, and across the Narrow Sea.

All across the Known World and Lost World, in every nation,  _selected_ people falter and freeze and turn their faces towards the source of the Call that resounds and binds their very blood.

 **Come,**  the otherworldy  _Voice_  summons them.

* * *

**178.**

It is sheer disbelief that shell-shocked the listeners who knew the legend, the tale as just a myth of pure gratification that no one believes anymore.

 _The Dragonborn,_ someone that was said to be the  _Chosen of Valyria,_ and founder of the Valyrian Peninsula who had legions of men and women sworn to an _Oath of Servitude_ —of fealty and protection that would bless the oath-bearers until the end.

The Dragonborn is also believed to be gone.

No one knows what happened to the Dragonborn who has disappeared without a single trace. However, the oath continues to hold the oath-bearers' descendants even as the Valyrian Empire fell apart as the dragonlords grew arrogant to forget what they had sworn to the people of Valyria to be the shield and sword and has seen the new generation of men and women as lesser by one reason or another.

The same new generation of men and women understood that the dragonlords are not fit to oversee Valyria had fled away from the dragonlords. These same people freed from the dragonlords' tyranny have founded Braavos.

Then Doom of Valyria came upon the Dragonlords.

Everyone who knew the legend realized that the dragonlords went against  **Oath**  that was why so many believe that the Dragonborn is still around watching over them.

This hope made an assurance that made the Valyrian Freehold to pick the pieces while they wait for centuries.

Afterwards, there came the difference of opinions which ultimately divided them. The once Valyrian Freehold fragmented in a chaotic period known as the Century of Blood. When the dust settled, nine independent city-states were left in western Essos they were the Free Cities:  _Braavos, Lorath, Lys, Myr, Norvos, Pentos, Qohor, Tyrosh, and Volantis._

When Aegon and his sisterwives  _happened_ , these nine independent city-states found them  _severely lacking and weak_  even as they have three dragons with them.

And it was proven trial and true.

The Targaryens that came after Aegon and his sisterwives died also lacks the thing they looked for.

A thing which for centuries the Free Cities finally finds.

Valyria has found the person for them.

The question is: will they bend the knee?

* * *

**179.**

The  _Shy Maid_  rocks with the waves.

On it, the Dayne siblings, Rhaegar, his son Aegon and Rhaenyra grinds to a halt in their discussion as one by one they look to the east.

* * *

**180\. Dragonstone**

Lord Lucerys Velaryon is crying ceaselessly.

This sight has his sons Monford and Aurane trying hard to calm down ignoring the fact that they too have tears in their eyes.

And they are not the only ones.

For every dragon seeds in dragonstone shed tears that night, and it is not sorrow but of unexplainable joy.

* * *

**181\. Rhaella Lannister**

In Casterly Rock, Rhaella weeps for the future she intuitively knows she never is going to be part of.

"Mother?"

Rhaella slowly hugs and comforts his youngest son, Rhaegon the Heir of House Lannister.

* * *

**182\. King's Landing**

Instinctively, Stannis especially makes himself scarce before the song has started, Renly goes right after him.

On cue, Robert Baratheon works himself up on a mad fury he has driven Cersei, his children, his council, and everyone else in the castle into hiding.

Unknown to everyone else, within the privacy of his quarters, Varys skips with near demented wide smile and screams in glee onto his pillow.

* * *

**183.**

The Citadel is flooded by ravens carrying out the missive asking for one thing:  _Is magic back?_

No one knows the answer.

Simply because the  **Voice**  has gone quiet.

* * *

**184.**

By now, the  _Call_  has spread though the Free Cities. Priest and priestess pray for guidance to their old and new gods.

Sailors speak of shadows shape like dragons on the skies in Asshai, Qarth, and Meereen, dragons among the Dothraki, and dragons freeing slaves. Though all the tales differ in details, all speak of dragons and the  _Dragon Quartet's_  striking beauty riding them have spread far and wide.

* * *

**185.** **Daario Naharis**

"So it is now obvious  _why_  they survive the Doom."

"Not the Conquerors of Westeros, but one of their descendants."

"The Dragonborn is one from House Targaryen."

"Which make it very clear that Valyria's Champion is not summon and chosen with mercy in mind."

"History will repeat itself."

"Yes. Men did learn, once. Men will learn as much as men should remember."

"Or all men must die with fire and blood," the priestess finishes sagely.

These are what the highborn and lowborn of the Free Cities talks about after the convention of the Lord of Light, House of Black and White, and other mystic priest and priestess.

They are evidently torn.

They grew up knowing about the  _Legendary Dragonborn_. Part of them always long for home and safety, though another part is afraid. Afraid that the Dragonborn would end up like the  _Mad King_. Targaryen or Blackfyre makes no difference. The thought frightened them to the bones.

Daario Naharis simply observes this dignified dread of the noble and plebeian masses with hidden amusement, and it is beyond him why others would bound themselves so thoroughly  _especially_  the highborn of the Free Cities to someone  _completely unknown_  with that kind of dogged loyalty and steadfast devotion.

He never has met the person behind the knowledge that the  _Legendary Dragonborn_ is back. However, the Mad King's reputation somehow precedes the _Legendary Dragonborn,_ as Aerys Targaryen is one of his or her blood makes the fear of the name more effective resulting a rapid decline of slavery in the Free Cities. The power of the name has lead many persons of note to change their business with tails behind their backs. Even in the Great Grass Sea ruled by the Dothraki, this did not hinder effect of the  _Legendary Dragonborn_.

And Daario wants to meet the  _Legendary Dragonborn_ to command such influence by word alone is very interesting.

His wish is granted and he is caught completely unprepared.

Even as a flight of dragons soar on the skies and a three-headed dragon descends on the main square of Braavos and its populace humbly kneel with such heartfelt fervor of absolute loyalty, Daario Naharis has his eyes only set towards the legendary dragonborn.

It is only when each men and woman both highborn and lowborn takes their oath that Daario finally did understand all too clearly in one startling realization.

"Dragonborn, Chosen One of Valyria, our chosen Sovereign Empress, I, Tycho Nestoris, agent of the Iron Bank of Braavos pledge upon the magic in my bloodline, a descendant of the naturalborn daughter, Aozora of Valyria to uphold the will of the Dragonborn. May my life be blessed when in Dragonborn's service. May Valyria and Magic forsake my blood if I ever stray from my path. So I pledge to the Dragonborn the Chosen One of Valyria," Tycho Nestoris vows, "So mote it be."

Daario gulps at the binding words applied on the  _Oath._

"I, Visenya Targaryen, Second of My Name, from House Stark of the North and House Targaryen of Dragonstone—"

Eyes widen at this revelation.

"—your chosen sovereign, do renew the Valyrian Oath of Servitude. Guided by wisdom, with justice and honour, I will protect and defend the rights and welfare of all citizens and residents as claimed by Valyria with the means bestowed upon me as the Dragonborn with the words of my Family—In Arduis Fidelis, Loyalty in Adversity. May Valyria and Magic find you true and pure Tycho Nestoris, agent of the Iron Bank of Braavos. May Valyria and sentient Magic bless your devotion and loyalty in the Dragonborn's service and damn you if you ever stray from your path. So I say it, so mote it be."

Then something weaves in the air around them.

 _Magic,_  Daario thinks with inner childish awe

He would not have met the _Legendary Dragonborn_  if not for the Second Sons contract with the Iron Bank. For the entirety of Braavos, locks themselves in with information blackout that cloaks the city's affairs after confirmation of the  _Legendary Dragonborn_ arrival makes its rounds in the city of Braavos only.

Visenya's breathtaking beauty is lethal enough. But her smile is equally deadly, Daario has this one idiotic thought to steal those rare warm smiles and keep them for himself. Add Visenya's captivating charisma, and that is one dangerous combination one person can have.

And another fact hit Daario in full force when he finds himself taking the same  _Oath._

Not because he has to but because he wants to. And he never regrets it.

For under the Oath of fealty and protection the Free Cities is blessed and prospered and flourished ten times than before.

All thanks to the Visenya of Valyria and the Dragon Quartet's management.

* * *

**186\. Varys**

There is no news across the Narrow Sea.

He is perplexed by a conundrum, one which he did not expect at all.

The Free Cities has all unanimously agreed  _with each other_  to be in total information blackout. They blatantlyrefuse him, and no bribing or underhanded method could make his birds sing.

Varys takes note of such cautious undertaking and the barring exclusion the Free Cities all but blared against Westeros which he also begrudgingly approves, and with this talk of magic being back, Varys bits off his grimace.

These developments from the Free Cities…singlehandedly clean out the game.

For the first time, Varys is mildly put out by Visenya of Valyria  _(for there is no else else that could do it but her)_  but wonders all the same what plans the brilliant dragon has for Westeros as a whole.

Varys sweeps a look at the chaos in the Small Council, and regrets the utter incompetence of King Baratheon in handling the Iron Throne's affairs.

 _Oh well. If the wine-induced fool king would not put the Kingdoms' affairs through its paces, Visenya might as well be handed the Seven Kingdoms on the serving platter as its due,_  Varys sums up careless of how said woman would take his solution.

* * *

**187\. Brynden Rivers**

"This changes things."

"Still, we all know, the fated Prince won't let things stay as it is."

"Then, let fate and time take its own course."

"So we wait?"

"We wait."

"How's the other?"

"He needs a drive, a purpose."

"Something extraordinary happens that is enough motivation."

Ignoring the Children of the Forest discussion, Brynden feels contentment for the first time in so many years.

With blood and fire, the Dragonborn will take no stone unturned as legend tells.

Whether it is a good or bad change, Brynden does not care. He can't see past where he is confined anymore.  _Something_ blocks his sight, and he is next to useless for the Children of the Forest's  _disappointment_ which he is actually very glad for.

Brynden could only wait for the great but terrible change  _(and maybe he feels hopeful to have his revenge through Visenya the Dragonborn)._

* * *

**188\. Night's Watch**

Aemon Targaryen becomes increasingly interested in the stories about the  _Dragonborn,_  and has utterly believed that said Dragonborn  _prince that was promised,_  as proven by the Call. He insists a thorough ranging the Wall, calling the  _Dragonborn_  as humanity's last hope for the War of Dawn.

He also is insistent that a maester should be send to the  _Dragonborn_  to give them counsel.

The Loyalists agreed, and Aemon makes his way first to Old Town and is accompanied by Archmaester Marwyn to a journey across the Narrow Sea.

A moonturn later nothing is heard from the old dragon.

With a biding from Rhaella Lannister, a search is conducted.

The search party is refused entrance to reach their objective by a fleet bearing white flags. All that was told to them is Aemon Targaryen and Archmaester Marwyn are both still hearty and hale.

This put a stump to the rest of the search as nothing could persuade the fleet to give them entrance.

* * *

**189\. Tywin Lannister**

The search party then goes back to Casterly Rock empty-handed.

Tywin Lannister did not care much for the result and safety of Aemon Targaryen as long as business with the Free Cities especially the Iron Bank is not stalled by nothing as grave as plague despite the reticence that blackouts any good information from the Free Cities.

Business is still on succeeding dealings, so Tywin is content in giving guidance to his youngest most favored son and heir Rhaegon  _(the name rose his brown when he heard it first him but he could at least give the fallen dragon queen that as he is no monster like the Mad King and a foolish oaf like his goodson the squanderous king)_ to handle the Lannister's business.

And if he is away from the sheer incompetence of the Crown Prince, his grandson, and his daughter the queen, whose management of the Crown's coffers sucks out the best of Tywin's wits if he allows it, is all the better for Tywin.

Soon this unawareness would be one of Tywin's greatest regrets, but for now he is very pleased with his new pride and joy.

* * *

**190.**

People heard the lines spoken with both awe and fear which everyone with a brain can tell are an abridged version of the whole tales.

" _The Mother of Dragons and the Revolutionary Empress."_

" _Those just and fair dragonknights."_

" _The blood of Aegon the Dragon flows in their veins."_

" _The frightened children, and were reborn in blood and fire. The Dragon Quartet who wears their names are true dragons."_

With the words tattooed inked on the left shoulder— _In Arduis Fidelis,_

Loyalty in Adversity—which is a warning and a threat at the same it is good enough deterrent not to take the  _Oath_  lightly.

Inconspicuous really is not an option for said  _Dragon Quartet_ , but no one in their right mind wants war between Westeros and the Free Cities especially with winter near at the bend so any talks about the Dragon Quartet happens only in locked doors and well-guarded places and even then, the Dragon Quartet true identities are secrets only those within their service knows.

* * *

**191\. The Stepstones**

There is fear and awe when the news reaches them.

For reasons unknown to most, the Stepstones have never been the same again.

But it changes for the better.

Pirates and slavers did not hunt the place, and has become a training garrison for those who want to serve the  _Dragon Quartet._

It is the only haven the Golden Company has found after fleet after fleet led by Gerion Lannister and Rickard Stark (a descendant of those who refused to bend their knees to Aegon the Conqueror and has founded the Rose Company) barred the Golden Company's path to the Free Cities.

The Golden Company also is politely shepherded on a neutral place by those individuals who are once their trusted acquaintance. This blackout of information and reservation has lead to several misunderstandings as members of the company feel shunned and only mention of  _Vow of Silence_  and  _oath-taking of fealty_ enlightens them.

An oath-taking that they cannot do for it involves magic and blood and subservience.

They cannot get pass the blockade made of fleets that bears white flags scattered across the Narrow Sea.

Westeros is not an option.

So the Golden Company stands at an impasse waiting for a contemplative Rhaegar to make his move.

* * *

**192\. Benjen Stark**

_So it begins, the calm before the storm._

His wolf, Moonlight howls in the night. Benjen shivers at the foreboding sound while watching the mated direwolves with eight pups and their gleaming knowing eyes that stare through something they only can see.

Something suspiciously moves in the dark.

Benjen moves to investigate it and found something which has not been seen for thousands of years.

* * *

**193.**

A raven flies bearing Benjen Stark's message flies across the Narrow Sea passing through the wards with ease.

It is then answered by Aemon who flies with his dragon Snowfalls to the Night's Watch to hunt for proof, and taking a scenic voyage across the sea and together with her entourage, the Visenya makes her way to Westeros.

* * *

**194.**

Another raven flies to Winterfell, it says,

_Our reunion is an onset for a great war, Lord Stark. The War of Dawn. My brother will arrive on King's Landing with proof. Best prepare the Seven Kingdoms for a show then._

Ned feels slightly aged at that same moment.

* * *

**195.**

In King's Landing, a missive which cancels the king's trip to the North arrives. The missive speaks about a Grand Convention sponsored by the Lord Paramount of the North himself, Eddard Stark who would travel with the heads of the Northern Houses themselves.

Varys's spine tingles with excitement for the drama to erupt as he sent an invite is sent to the Stepstones for the Golden Company's attendance.

* * *

**196\. Aegon Targaryen**

From the distance, a breezy yet calming wind whistles. Aegon tilts his head up just a little higher and his eyes lock on to the horizon. The sea is wide and endless, he cannot see faintest hint of land.

He is well-rested but he feels drained from the vigorous footwork training he has all day. He is sailing through the sea hazy with sleep, when he feels it. Someone else is on the ship. He blinks his sleepy eyes in surprise as a raven head comes up to his sight.

For a moment, he wonders whose fool out there will swim through these shark infested waters.

 _It must be a dream._  His mind supplies tiredly.

Then, a body emerges from the waters of the sea. A girl, younger than him climbs up on his boat wearing nothing but sea water dripping all over her body.

Yes, it is a beautiful dream since the image is quite a beautiful and unexpected, yet welcoming to Aegon.

And Aegon barely hears Ser Arthur's gasps from behind him.

* * *

**197\. Arthur Dayne**

A girl climbs up on his boat wearing nothing but sea water dripping all over her body.

The image prolongs as if putting emphasis of reality.

A sudden jolt of incredulity passes over him, his eyes widen in awe seeing the face from many years ago that has grown into a beautiful girl at the early years of womanhood, standing there like a sculptured statue of a sea nympth.

He couldn't be mistaken.

He draws in his breath, blinks twice. "Visenya?!"

He feels more than he sees as he catches her falling body before she falls on the ship's floorboards. Many questions flood his mind, he did not like the conclusion his mind is heading to as he takes off his cloak to cover her very naked body.

His expression grim, as the  _Shy Maiden_ inhabitants awoke at far too early dawn.

* * *

**198.** **Rhaenyra Blackfyre**

_Good thing, she is all right, safe and whole_ , Ser Arthur murmurs when he checks Visenys over, tells Aegon and Rhaenyra to guard her, and then he leaves to calm Jon Connington down while explaining how he met her for before ( _and why did Ser Arthur never brings that up to them?)_ to the indomitable Rhaegar Targaryen, who for the first time Rhaenyra sees his alarm in worry for Visenya when she spares the exiled prince a distracted glance.

For a long while, Rhaenyra is watching Visenya in her sleep.

Beyond any reason, Rhaenyra does not want to leave her as if pulled and drawn by something unexplainable. Glancing at Aegon beside her, Rhaenyra thinks feels the same thing.

She wonders how this attraction to Visenya would change the dynamic between her and Aegon as she watches Aegon stares on with admiration at her half-sister in front of him.

Rhaenyra is luckier to dress the unconscious Visenya and stares at the perfect curves of blossoming breasts which are firm and small, a narrow waist she can span around with her hands. Perfect round buttocks, long slim legs, and moon-kissed skin. The serene face matches up the alluring body.

She and Aegon have seen considerable numbers of naked woman's bodies on their lives, Visenya's should not matter anymore. But for old and new gods' sake it did!

A dragon's charm is a baffling thing for a start which makes Rhaenyra suddenly afraid.

Visenya's attraction is lethal.

As if called by simply thinking her name, Visenya stirs from her sleep.

There surprise is plundered mercilessly by Visenya.

Before Rhaenyra can move, Visenya's arms holds her on an almost chokehold with a force that they both tumble to the bed. She's straddling her.

There is a grunt from Aegon who is held down by a dagger on his shirt against the wall.

_How did it get like this?_

* * *

**199\. Visenya**

Warily, she eyes the long-haired, Aegon Targaryen gaping at her.

She has a creeping bad feeling about this, and looks down to someone underneath her.

Visenya stares. Harder.

The drinking from last night and too many dares must have fried her memory cells. Her mental faculties a lot slower until it rebooted after a review of alternate universe where Aegon Blackfyre is a female.  _Like in here._

All she could say is—

"Holy rotten shit of luck!"

The twisted ridiculous cosmic joke is at play on her.

With huge effort, she gets off from the female version of Aegon Blackfyre and flees from the room as swift as she can.

She ignores the shouts of warning as she dismantles the Golden Company's guards with an ease born of practice. As bodies fall around with yelps and groans. She makes her way through the ship's bow. Gripping the railing tightly, she takes a moment to study the calm, dark waters.

And with no hesitation, she gulps a deep breath before diving into the water and recoils on how cold the sea water is to her barely clothed skin. She adjusts her body into a swimming position to get away from the place. She is far enough before a booming shout Arthur's has wrecked the tranquil peace of the ocean.

She makes no move to look back.

And if she did, she would see the  _Shy Maid's_  occupants literally sweep off their feet as they gape in wonder of her.

* * *

**200\. Jon Connington**

He is no idiot. He could see one of the  _Dragon Quartet_ when he sees one after a ship several leagues away which Visenya seems to swim over  _(and he has this inkling it is the founder they happens to serendipitously encounter)._

Feeling irritated from the person who wreck havoc in his ship like mother like daughter, he manages a glare at her disappearing specter.

_That child who is more trouble than she is worth._

Of course, Jon keeps this thought to himself.

Heaven forbids Rhaegar would hear anything unpleasant against his beloved Visenya.

From his peripheral sight, Jon completely turns at Aegon and Rhaenyra who are visibly caught off guard by Visenya's…charms dragons seem to naturally wore like perfume.

 _As expected._  Jon nearly rolls his eyes and grimaces at this outcome.

With barley restrained indignation and needing to be away from the utter ridiculousness of this situation or else Jon will do something that he will surely regret ( _like berating Aegon and Rhaenyra not to pant like dogs on heat that could launch a war fleet on their pretty heads),_  Jon sweeps out from the piles of moaning bodies, Rhaeger looking like he has seen a ghost from his past who comes back alive to hunt him, and a laughing Arthur, and the ex-kingsguards particularly Prince Lewen Martell who looks grudgingly impressed from the chaos Visenya left on her wake.

* * *

**201\. Stannis Baratheon**

_(On other alternate worlds, he would keep faith with his elder brother as it is his duty. Nevertheless, there is no lost love between two elder brothers. Renly, the youngest brother might have a little but that soon splintered off as Stannis lost himself grasping for his rights and is blinded by power.)_

In this world, Stannis is beaten black and blue after revealing that he refuses to be a kinslayer to his younger cousins. He has earned Robert's enmity right then, and has learned to be civil with the king as decorum dictates. No matter how much Robert shames him a lot of times.

What he will never forgive is Robert's ill treatment to his daughter, Shireen. For when the young Shireen is present at court, Robert would laugh and mocked her along with his wife and heir making Shireen to secretly cry on his shoulders at nights behind the privacy of their quarters. To display the same scorn Robert has for an unfavored brother to a blameless child…Stannis starts to loathe Robert in secret since then.

It is why Stannis tolerates… _this._

He stares and stares.  _Fucking dragons._

His daughter, Shireen is smiling so wide  _(unlike when at court_ ) has a dragon the size of a sand steed sleeping on her lap.

Beside the two, the young lady with curious eyes of grey and violet nods at him, "Viserys sends you his regards, Lord Stannis."

Ever watchful, Stannis regards how gravely serious she is about the young male dragon paying his debt.

After that enlightenment, Stannis pinches his nose then, feeling a headache coming.

He lives to regret keeping those Targaryens alive ( _not really_ ).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest interlude and chapter for this story. It is also a sweetener for a long period of late update just in case life's work makes my schedule busy.


	8. Ours Is the Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn would learn to gradually emphasize with how Rhaegar lost his wits. Visenya is tempted to let Westeros suffer. Stannis stands as a witness to an unholy alliance. Benjen hits upon an implausible conclusion about the crown. The Children would suffer through The Prince That Was Promised’s rebellion. Brynden is half-way vindicated. And Viserys burns.

  1. **Oberyn Martell and his grudge and obsession.**



Oberyn Martell has known for a while of the name, Visenya.

Who wouldn’t? The Free Cities—where Oberyn _unlike any highborn grown ass man_ has been gallivanting for years—speaks of her name in both worshipful awe and paralyzing terror.

At first, the House Martell has assumed it is another Blackfyre seed grappling her claims to the Iron Throne. As a whole, that made House Martell _curious._

So Quentyn is charged by his father, Doran Martell to make a study of this Visenya Blackfyre.

What they found out was this generalization: Visenya who wore a white mask with a black dragon drawn on it which displays only her eyes, is an emissary working under the banner of the Dragon Quartet. Her reputation is so fearsome, there is a rapid decline of slavery and piracy in the Free Cities. The hunt has led many slavers and pirates alike to flee from the Free Cities with tails behind their backs.  But there’s a one fact. It’s an unspoken rule. Visenya, is also a freelance officer of the _Company of Roses._ No one knew what position she had.  Only one thing is sure—the Company of Roses are all zealously possessive of Visenya, another reason, for the rest of the sellswords to walk in eggshells when she’s concerned.

That is the above information before a communication blackout is agreed _between_ the Free Cities barred any spies. And the above generalization has been allowed to spread in the waiting ears of the spies and interested people. For the most curios intriguing thing is nobody could just _simply talk and communicate_ about Visenya and the Dragon Quartet despite the fact that they are an open secret. And even if they are mentioned, it happens only in locked doors and well-guarded places and even then, the Dragon Quartet true identities are secrets only those within their service know.

This blackout of information and reservation has lead to several misunderstandings and only the detail of _Vow of Silence_ and _oath-taking of fealty_ enlightens House Martell.

An oath-taking that cannot be done for it involves _magic and blood and absolute subservience_.

Dorne could _not_ possibly do total subservience for they are _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken_.

It also has highlighted about the magical royal geas which particularly seals the knowledge into secrecy, which is good enough deterrent that stumped anyone who would dare to try and harm the Dragon Quartet in any ways.

In conclusion, Visenya Blackfyre’s presence has changed the game in Westeros for she has gained a foothold being the centre of it no matter how the distance has her to afford the neutrality to sit out the games. And Blackfyre seed or not, this absolute power has baited the Martells to utilize Visenya. For whatever reason is there that Visenya is a name that personified one of the Dragon Queen Conquerors? But more than that, she is the Martell’s best chance at vengeance to cast down the Baratheons and the Lannisters for the murdered Princess Elia and her children.

Wary and interested at the same, Oberyn bids his time to make a personal study of this Visenya. But what he finds out both pleased and enraged him at the same time. _(The girl has been upfront of who she is to Oberyn when they_ accidentally _met. If it is another person involved, Oberyn would probably appreciate the honesty.)_ Because Visenya Blackfyre has both magic and strength, and possesses the thrice-damned Lyanna Stark’s physical characteristics and wild allure that brought an entire House legacy at ruin and Seven Kingdoms to war— _a most definite lethal and potent combination for sure_. And by the old and new gods’ sick games, Eddard Stark of the North has saved her sister’s child as Oberyn had not.

And like the first strike of venom, Oberyn’s first instinctive reaction is to kill this Visenya Blackfyre, that cunt Rhaegar’s bastard for the injustice of how she is thriving and living still when her siblings Rhaeneys and Aegon were brutally murdered. And only Tyene, his daughter has stayed his raging impulse to kill this Visenya.

 _“Would you condemn and punish a bastard, an innocent child born after the tragic circumstances_ out of her control, _father of mine?”_ _Tyene hisses calmly_. _“She is still blood of our blood.”_

‘As big-hearted aunt Elia would say,’ _hangs on the silent air between father and daughter._

_For his most treacherous daughter to concede to Elia’s wish speaks enough for her to divert Oberyn to swallow his rage and stay his impulse._

_“And if there is someone worth of directing your anger, father. That is none other than the fallen and exiled Silver Prince,” Tyene reminds him._

Oberyn allows that cunt to live simply because there is no hell that would bring peace to someone who lives between nightmares that cursed and hunted _every_ waking day of Rhaegar’s life.

 _To have Rhaegar’s own harebrained scheme of abduction turned against him and his remaining daughter_ , this particular more insidious thought has merited and compelled Oberyn to seek out his vengeance in a more productive way— _to corrupt Rhaegar’s beloved Visenya in pain and pleasure._

And so Oberyn plots and plots.

Of course, his daughters won’t be his sharp-witted children from his loins if they did not notice his nefarious scheming.

_“Be careful father as you are stalking into the enemy’s pits.”_

_“This is called dedicated observation of a pawn, daughter.”_

_“…So your collection about Visenya Blackfyre is not a shrine?”_

_“I’ll burn those later after I decoded it.”_

_“…That is an alternative for sacrificing tokens, father.”_

_“Just mind your own business, daughter.”_

Of course when his daughter’s warnings flew to Oberyn’s other ear; his elder brother, Doran is concerned most about him.

_“Brother, you are being bated by the baffling charms of a dragon which lovestruck maidens and men alike have found themselves trapped by their own making.”_

_“I am not trapped by that child’s wiles, brother.”_

Then comes their last resort, Oberyn’s lady love, Ellaria Sand.

_“I’m worried of how obsessively compulsive you have become, Oberyn.”_

_“I vehemently must disagree, my love.”_

_Ellaria sighs. “I’m not above to say. ‘that I told you so’, lover of mine.”_

But the ill-fates are generous to bestow Oberyn what he desires for Visenya’s independent self-appointed mission costs her through a festivity held for her where she graces her presence. But the curious thing is nobody in the ship seems to mind that Visenya is literally held captive by Oberyn. It’s pretty much convenient. All the better to steal her away then.

And now after checking any signs of weaponry, his hands hold her down on his bed in a tight grip.

"I caught you," Oberyn states in a bored tone. It has been too easy. Honor has always managed to trap a Stark after all.

Charms bellied by her half-lidded eyes look up to him, and Oberyn finds them unsettling so he gazes down at his prize with begrudging appreciation

"I could see why the Silver Prince was driven mad by the She-Wolf,” Oberyn admits shamelessly his one great snag in his best laid-out plans, namely, Visenya with profoundly sex-kitten enticement few people just seemed to be innately born with.

…. Too late that he had underestimated how lethally charming Visenya could be even as she is doused by a drug.

“How many maiden has fallen through your lines?”

Oberyn is amused. “I do not count. It’s not my fault if they find themselves loving the pleasures I give them.

“Like that would happen to me.”

Feeling baited by the stirring hardness of his loins, Oberyn laughs. "It's your fault for tempting me. Even as you sleep, you bewitch me when I intend to kill you."

“Stop lying!” Visenya snaps. “Everyone is always lying to me. Why can’t any of you in Westeros just tell me the fucking truth for once?”

Oberyn tilts his head. That specific anger seems not to be reserved for him, and is then distracted by a disturbance outside which catches his attention.

Sighing, Oberyn bids his leaving _. For now_. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you after I cut some loose ends on my part.”

But when he returns, his prize is gone without a trace.

Oberyn’s displeasure from this finding is made known that night.

For belated damnation's sake and hearing Ellaria’s vindication in his mind, Oberyn finds himself _hopelessly_ charmed by his prize.

* * *

 **203.**   **Visenya perchance a treacherous snake and…dragons.**

 _Taking a break after suffering through many daring challenges, she would have appreciate the golden copper clouds streaking a fiery sunset over the horizon of the southeast coast of The Gullet, if not for the addition of bustling partying people around her._ (She was not one for navigating the social niceties. But she could make it do.)

 _She almost wished he could have taken Daenerys or Viserys with her._ (But Daenerys had her role to play as the Queen of Mereen.) _At the very least, she could have free entertainment watching any confident female or sometimes male guests that failed miserably to get any positive reactions from the usual_ default _unapproachable severe face Viserys had. But then again, she did not want her seconds-in-command to hover over her all the time like a looming mass of bodyguards which was why she assigned Viserys and Aemon for better position while she obligingly attended this party._

 _The plan was it was either or Aemon to play emissary, but Aemon won the argument that the_ Prince That Was Promised _was a man accordingly. Seeing the restrained snowstorm that bellied her twin’s grim expression, she let him deal with that._

_The point was, they could not just leave their flourishing kingdom unattended even for the sake of preventing total annihilation of the Known World._

_As it was, she was watching with disguised boredom at the crowd mingling around her in the luxurious ship._ Her entourage. _She could not outrightly reject one of the eager-to-please Sealords of Braavos's accommodation. The man was one of her loyal people and trusted allies. Moreover, she could not really afford to offend the man who supported the Dragon Quartet even without the oath-taking of servitude at first venture of her twin until the Call made the Sealord to nearly fall over himself to take the vow._

 _She frowned at her cup of wine._ Had she gone so soft? S _he took another sip from her cup, giving a silent approval to Alejandro's discriminating tasteful palette. She doubted downing them like it's the last one would do her any harm._

_By her eighth shot, her instincts had sensed that something was wrong. More so, when she subtly covered a hand over her yawning mouth._

_She peered at Oberyn. "Did you spike my drink with something?"_

_The Oberyn’s golden eyes glinted with dark amusement. "I did."_

_Her eyes narrowed at the scheme being played at her expense. "Is this one of your pranks?"_

_But her vision swayed then. Before she could set loose her anger, the ground seemed to soften underneath her boots._

_The last she thought was, even if Valyria won’t let go things too far, Visenya could rescue herself just fine._

_The next thing Visenya knew, she was semi-aware of the lips grazing on hers._

_"I could see why the Silver Prince was driven mad by the She-Wolf.”_

_That voice was frighteningly familiar._

_Something shifted beside her.  "It's your fault for tempting me."_

This can't be happening, _she mentally denied as the owner of the voice spoke again._

_"Even as you sleep you bewitch me when I intend to kill you."_

_She allowed the chilled anger and slithering dread to explode._

_What she felt next was something silky covering her as the hand raked over her hair. She almost jerked away from the touch._

_"Don't worry. I'll take care of you."_

_She slightly jostled as the other move away from the bed, leaving her. The steps fading away outside._

_Disgust washed over her. More to herself than to her would-be assailant. She had thought she had learned her lesson well being a girl in the games. And how being sexually vulnerable got the point crossed._ This reminder _, had served to open her distrust and paranoia to people again._

_No._

_She had thrown away her childish tendency of seeking approval and being saved by others._

_No more._

_She was no longer that pathetic, helpless fool in distress._

I am The Ice Princess Visenya, Chosen One of Valyria, The Dragonborn.

 _Distantly, she sensed the waking fury of her hydra through the bond_. _A determined grimace decorated her lips. Unsteadily, she rose from the bed and shook the drugs from her system. A funny thought then struck her. Her tolerance through the years as voluntary guinea pig to Satin’s various drugs might have made her somewhat immune to their effects._

_Or so she thought, when her vision blurred._

_Tapping for her magical energy reserves, she wasted no time to leave the room. Hours must have gone by since the party started. The place was seemingly vacated with human presence. She did not linger for long. Sighting the deck's railings, a hysterical self-deprecating laugh came out from her._

_The effort she wasted subtracted a portion of her nearly depleting strength. Mind-absently, she noted and loathed how Westeros seemed to suck out her strength as her knees folded. It sobered her enough to feel any changes within her body._

_...She smiled brokenly._ Is there anyone else I can trust _?_

_With her heart pounding, she took a deep breath before diving into the water._

The next thing she knows, Visenya shoots up from the bed and finds herself making the acquaintance of a familiar face. Warily, she eyes the long-haired, Aegon Targaryen gaping at her. She has a creeping bad feeling about this, and looks down to someone underneath her.

Visenya stares. _Harder._

The drinking from last night and too many dares must have fried her memory cells. Her mental faculties a lot slower until it rebooted after a review of alternate universe where Aegon Blackfyre is a female. Like in here. All she could say is—

_"Holy rotten shit of luck!"_

The twisted ridiculous cosmic joke is at play on her. With huge effort, she gets off from the female version of Aegon Blackfyre and flees from the room as swift as she can.

She ignores the shouts of warning as she dismantles the Golden Company's guards with an ease born of practice. As bodies fall around with yelps and groans. She makes her way through the ship's bow. Gripping the railing tightly, she takes a moment to study the calm, dark waters.

And with no hesitation, she gulps a deep breath before diving into the water and recoils on how cold the sea water is to her barely clothed skin. She adjusts her body into a swimming position to get away from the place. She is far enough before a booming shout of Arthur's has wrecked the tranquil peace of the sea.

She makes no move to look back.

And if she did, she would see the Shy Maid's occupants literally sweep off their feet as they gape in wonder of her.

* * *

 **204**.  **Jon Connington has a petty green-eyed monster.**

He is no idiot.

He could see one of the Dragon Quartet when he sees one after a ship several leagues away which Visenya seems to swim over (and he has this inkling it is the founder they happens to serendipitously encounter) as no one else it could possibly be to wind him up this much.

Feeling irritated from the person who wreck havoc in his ship like mother like daughter, Jon shoots a glare at her disappearing specter.

 _That child who is more trouble than she is worth._  Of course, Jon keeps this thought to himself. Heaven forbids Rhaegar would hear anything unpleasant against his beloved Visenya.

From his peripheral sight, Jon completely turns at Aegon and Rhaenyra who are visibly caught off guard by Visenya's…charms, dragons seem to naturally wore like perfume.

 _As expected._ Jon nearly rolls his eyes and grimaces at this outcome. With barely restrained indignation and needing to be away from the utter ridiculousness of this situation or else Jon will do something that he will surely regret _(like berating Aegon and Rhaenyra not to pant like dogs on heat that could launch a war fleet on their pretty heads),_ Jon sweeps out from the piles of moaning bodies, Rhaeger looking like he has seen a ghost from his past who comes back alive to hunt him, a laughing Arthur, and the ex-Kingsguards particularly Prince Lewen Martell who looks grudgingly impressed from the chaos Visenya left on her wake.

 _The fools that bastard made them to be,_ Jon thinks loathingly.

* * *

 

  1. **Visenya is tempted to let Westeros suffer as Viserys has once egged her on.**



Calmly, she goes back on her escort ship.

No one has bothered to ask where she has been and what happened to her.

Maybe it is because of the looming thunderous presence has appeared to be.

Maybe it is because their vows of fealty have holes on it that another had taken his or her chances to abuse.

Maybe it makes them guiltier. Or so.

She makes it almost to her quarters before her memories crashed in, and with it, the pleasant buzz.  Her actions caught up with her.

 _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ She thinks wildly. _What was I thinking?_

Carelessly, she walks to bath and scrubs her skin until they turn red from her the force of her scrubbing.

After she dressed, she watches through the window with a strange calmness as the tides croon the ship to rest. Her elbow is beginning to ache from where it was perched.

It feels like lifetime since she has a moment to be alone to simply brood.

It is one thing after another distraction, with barely a chance to breathe.

Previously, the slight miscalculation on her part, it cost her…honor.

She thinks how that brief abduction is in parallel with Aerys and how that cost his sanity.

She thinks how her safety precautions seem to be _sucked out_ by the cesspool called Westeros and the pettiness of a grudge.

_Let Westeros suffer._

She nearly is tempted to agree with Viserys.

What is it in Westeros that makes her weak?

_"No witnesses left alive as we are not yet ready against the Faith and its puppets, the Andals those noble knights of Westeros who is in large part responsible for the death of magic because they fear and hate it. Innocent children are killed faster than you can blink when they see signs of magic. Like the accidental force you just release. Bloodlines that are choked until magic bleeds dry from them. The death of the Targaryen dragons, other magical creatures, and the living sigil of the Stark drag to the near extinction. Who knows how much is untold as history always favors the winner?"_

She blinks and remembers saying that to Aemon. The Andals and the Faith then.

How could she have forgotten them?

Grimacing, she thinks of how she has been complacent as of late.

Then a primordial presence enters her mind. **I won’t let go things too far, my child.**

Her lips twist. _So you did make used of me as bait?_

**They don’t know what to make of you, Reborn. Their game has irrevocably changed after my intervention.**

From her mind’s eye she could perceive how frightening Valyria’s impression has become to groom her into a fearsome persona equal and worthy of being named Chosen One of Valyria—her Champion.

She smiles bitterly remembering the Mad King’s paranoia. _Was my brief abduction a lesson?_

**Both yours and theirs.**

For the sake of her goals, Visenya compartmentalizes and did not bother to ask why letting the matter go without further question, and would rather sick Viserys on the person responsible as he made it his job to protect her honor.

(On parallel directions, the male Targaryens has a sudden violent urge to burn a venomous snake alive.)

 **Be on guard, Reborn.** That was a stern order from Valyria.

"Always." Visenya keeps the lesson at heart.

As the ship sails on the waters that belong to Dragonstone, Visenya decides her next action.

A part of her the dark side of the moon so to speak, looks forward to see the chaos she would raise.

* * *

**206. Shireen Baratheon is the making of a brewing storm.**

She has learned first of shame and hurt of worthlessness which grows into her. A feeling which is no stranger to her as it has been growing in years.

Second is _, Ours Is the Fury,_ the words of House Baratheon.

Shireen is taught to learn those words at heart.

And so the brewing storm develops within Shireen’s heart.

By age five name days, Shireen has learned her place. Since it is the unfortunate circumstances that have cultivated the brewing storm against her own blood.

_“I pity you, brother,” the king comments to an unmoving Stannis. “Having to deal with a cursed trueborn child. It was too harsh a punishment by the gods after your grievous error to your King.”_

Shireen is made to believe how her greyscaled scars is Father’s punishment

What made it crueller, is her father’s unfeeling coldness. Her lord father who would never win the tourney of best father in the land but now here in King’s Landing, becomes a stranger to her.

And Shireen _utterly_ loathes how dutifully unfeeling, an epitome of an unruffled lord her Father _have to be_.

But what Shireen did know best was that her lord father certainly didn’t love his brother, the king,  simply because when the verbal bullying of the king and the king’s family is too much for Shireen, her lord father goes thunderously still in behalf of her.

And only duty binds his father to stay his hand in defence of Shireen.

Her fragile heart breaks and she glues it back to shape. As it is often reminded _right back at her face_ , that she has the right noble blood but not the face.

_“Pity that she’s highborn lady.”_

_“At least she has that compared to nothing.”_

_“She is fortunate that she has the right blood.”_

_“A face only a mother could love.”_

_It is the last that strikes home through Shireen’s heart. At best, her mother cares for her out of necessity and at worse, her mother Selyse pities her and wants nothing to do with her._

In time, Shireen develops her quiet hatred about how the people would stare and mutter when she passed by.

For nearly three years, she develops nothing but her growing hate. Most of all, she hates the royal family, her blood by extension. For none of them has been kind enough to her.

So when Shireen finds herself flatten and dripped by the saliva of a purple scaly thing…

She did not see the thing as a monster. But—

 _A terribly stunning dragon,_ Shireen's mind supplies just as a calm as a whirlpool of what-ifs entertains her inner mind.

After said dragon lets her go, Shireen has recovered and just content herself to watch the dragon being reprimanded by a raven haired lady.

“—did you know I am—you followed me—don’t answer that! So it’s her? All right, it’s your choice.”

A cough interrupts Shireen’s wonderings.

“Anyways, I’m Visenya and this is your bonded-dragon to be,” the dangerous stranger introduces candidly without pretence of any disguise.  “She wants you to name her.”

 _“Tempesta,”_ Shireen agrees in a daze.  

The thing is, her thoughts are horribly awe-inspiring to know _. For her poor lord father._

* * *

 

**207\. Stannis Baratheon is witnessing the alliance of storm and ice that burns.**

_(On other alternate worlds, he would keep faith with his elder brother as it is his duty. Nevertheless, there is no lost love between two elder brothers. Renly, the youngest brother might have a little of his affections but that soon splintered of as Stannis lost himself in grasping for his rights and is blinded by power.)_

In this world, Stannis is beaten black and blue after revealing that he refuses to be a kinslayer to his younger Targaryen cousins. He has earned Robert's enmity right then, and has learned to be civil with the King as decorum dictates. No matter how much Robert shames him a lot of times.

However, what Stannis will never forgive is Robert's ill treatment to his daughter, Shireen. For when the young Shireen is present at court, Robert would laugh and mocked her along with his wife and heir making Shireen to secretly cry on his shoulders at nights behind the privacy of their quarters. To display the same scorn Robert has for an unfavored brother to a blameless child…

Stannis starts to loathe Robert in secret since then.

It is why Stannis tolerates…this.

He stares and stares. _Fucking dragons._

His daughter, Shireen is smiling so wide and happily (unlike when at court) and has a purple dragon the size of a sand steed sleeping on her lap.

Beside the two, the young lady with curious eyes of grey and violet nods at him, "Viserys sends you his regards, Lord Stannis."

Ever watchful, Stannis regards how gravely serious she is about the young male dragon paying his debt.

After that enlightenment, Stannis pinches his nose then, feeling a headache coming.

He lives to regret keeping those Targaryens alive _(not really)._

 _What Stannis regrets is being part of the welcoming audience for this particular female stranger who literally_ stormed into his life, a figurative thundercloud upon her head, so self-possessingly careless and unflinchingly strong of how she conducts herself to simply barge in unceremoniously onto Westeros affairs.

"Bad timing compels my presence in Dragonstone. My apologies, Lord Baratheon." Tone quiet, nevertheless, the stranger’s entire visage is anything but apologetic when she spoke those words.

His daughter, Shireen however, is very please and amused as she welcomes the stranger in. “I don’t mind.” She says and looks at him in askance. “Do you father?”

On another day, Stannis would be please of his only child’s assertiveness but it would be terribly rude for him to be an ingrate for the cause of his daughter’s happiness and budding confidence. So Stannis only glowers his appraisal of the situation.

Briefly, Shireen and the stranger trade a look.

"This is Visenya, the Dragon Quartet’s emissary—“

Stannis freezes.

"—Lady Visenya meet my lord father, Stannis Baratheon. And this is Tempesta, my bonded dragon, father,” Shireen introduces with aplomb as if she did not tilt and shake Stannis’s worldview in an instant.

Dead silence follows after that.

Stannis forcibly keep any reactions that would negatively impact this…alliance. For there is no other word for it.

“Why, Shireen?” _Really, a purple dragon, Shireen?_

“The Baratheon that sits on that throne is _no good_ brother and family of ours, father.”

Stannis agrees silently and his daughter continues, “The _Dragon Quartet_ would spare no expense to get the strongest position in the game, so if that means dividing the houses apart, needs be must, lord father.”

Stannis could only gawk at his daughter. Shireen no longer looks like a gentle girl. Though she’s still smiling, her eyes are firing up a storm from within which pierce right through him.

Stannis could only assume that Shireen’s bond with her dragon is the reason why her ferocious side is unveiling their house words true to its line. Shireen’s experience in Robert’s court has brewed a storm within her and now it’s finally coming into its personified draconic form. Enough that the faintest Targaryen blood in her runs _true in its course._

…Robert’s abuse and disrespect would no longer be tolerated by this new Shireen.

Stannis spares a second to pity Robert before relishing the _justice_ of the appreciated turnabout.

But he must remind her that—

“Your duty is to House Baratheon first, Shireen.”

“House Baratheon, a cadet house of House Targaryen is only as good if it is faithful to it the one True King, and that is not Robert who wasted and disgraced Iron Throne, father.”

“He is still my brother,” a rebuttal that is tighteningly forced out from Stannis.

Uneasily silence damps between them at that truth.

"If this will put you at ease, Lord Stannis—”

The interruption has nearly made the two Baratheons jump in surprise for they have forgotten Lady Visenya’s presence.

“—rest assured that the Dragon Quartet will not make a bid for the Iron Throne.”

Stannis smiles sardonically at that, not falling for that honeyed assurance coming from another Visenya. And comforts himself that Shireen did not fly with this Visenya.

“Winter is here and the War of Dawn is to begin, Lord Stannis. It is for that very reason why the _Dragon Quartet_ emerges into the game before total annihilation has it over and done.”

There is a moment of dumbfounded silence as both Baratheons struggle to comprehend the dead seriousness of Visenya’s words.

That did not certainly put an incredulous frozen Stannis at ease at all. If was a lesser man, those words would send him to an early grave.

But it is Shireen’s question that has his disbelief in suspension.

“The Seven Kingdoms has all but forgotten House Targaryen. Why should House Targaryen remain generous to give this warning? And let Westeros suffer _instead_?”

Stunned of the evident vengeance he just heard, Stannis gives his daughter a startled look.

“House Targaryen will not condemn everyone for the errors of the minority, Lady Shireen.”

That was as good as noncommittally servicing a protector’s duty for the greater good. It spoke a lot for the surviving members of House Targaryen.

 _Or Blackfyre,_ Stannis supposes, perceptive this Visenya did not claim House Targeryan as hers.

 _Would that be a hard bread for Robert to chew on_ , Stannis muses inwardly. _A member from either fallen house providing the protection of the Seven Kingdoms better than him._

“But believing the Dragon Quartet’s motive is not the hardest thing, Lady Visenya. For Westeros to believe and rallying the Seven Kingdoms together is our challenging obstacle,” Stannis speaks grimly.

And isn’t that one daunting truth? Fear could either unite or put a dissention between and among the Seven Kingdoms. Not to mention that the Targaryen loyalist if push comes to shove will make a way for Reclamation or Right of Conquest.

“Unless there is proof for evidence to be shown,” Shireen agrees and recommends.

If anything, that’s when a rather frightening figurative thundercloud upon Visenya’s presence makes itself known to both Baratheon as a _strikingly terrible_ smile lits up on her face.

The sight of it slithers a shudder into Stannis’ body for he is ominously reminded of the words, _‘And may the gods have mercy on their soul.’_

* * *

 

**208\. Aemon has his moment to br-reflects.**

Its’ been days flying up Northward with Snowfall, his bonded dragon and Aemon contemplates. Exhaustion. That is the word of the day. Aemon would absolutely love to take a step back and jam his head in the sand but life would kick his ass for it.

Then he recalls his twin and wonders how Visenya stays as sane as she could be despite the madness her life’s spirals into.

_“Meeting new people make a difference. Law of life has me walking on a solitary path. If I embrace my solitude too much I will remember and will just dishearten me then."_

_“Then why bother to go forward?”_

_"Mostly, I live for others’ sake. For their memories and hopes. At times, it is stubbornness on my part not to give up. Sometime I just had enough and simply don’t give a damn. Those are the reasons.” A pause followed by a broken laugh came out from her, “… as if the ill-fates would simply leave me alone, only to remind me why I live in the first place,” Visenya finished with a heartbreaking smile that made Aemon’s went out to her._

Determined in not letting Visenya took the burden alone, it is this memory that gives Aemon the stubbornness to confront his fate.

Even with House Stark with the Exception of the Tully woman and two members of House Targaryen, at the end, Aemon would pull through everything else. All for his other half, Visenya, the first person to remain steadfastly stayed with beside him come raging clusterfuck life’s dunks him in.

How could he ever do any less for her?

(Aemon is not the same boy as before. The truth and depth of his changes in the name of love sometimes scares him down to his toes.

But he will fight fiercely to keep his family safe and whole.)

* * *

 

**209\. Benjen Stark is in awe of the dragon riding the Northwinds.**

“Chief Overseer!” a scout of the Night’s Watch shouts. “Lord Stark, come and see! They say a dragon is coming!”

In a heartbeat of his adrenaline spiking in both anticipation and fear, Benjen wonders if this display is the wise move to make even as he shoots up from his sit and walks briskly to the courtyard of Castle Black. His niece and nephew have made no secret of their bonded dragons through their moonturned letters.

But to see and behold the real thing is another matter entirely.

Thus, Benjen gapes and gawks in both awe at the deadly beauty of the white dragon and instinctive fear of being an utter prey of the magical creature that was once extinct. Entranced as he is, Benjen steals a moment to take in the others’ reaction, none of which are doing much more than to stare and gape at the armoured white dragon. And if Old Alliser Thorne could disregard his self-control he’d certainly flail about in glee.

Then the dragon descends, and the snow littered ground quakes at the impact, making Benjen to flinch subtly. And his nephew, Aemon, youngest of the twin slides off the back of the white dragon with practiced ease.

 _The mixed Stark and Targaryen blood come across as lethal charms it seems_. Benjen muses in survey of his nephew’s good looks and then eyes the frozen forms of the Night’s Watch brotherhood. With a barely audible snort, Benjen moves a step forward and holds out a hand for Aemon to shake.

“Be welcome, nephew,” Benjen murmurs and proceeds to introduce their guest. “Men of the Night’s Watch, it is my great pleasure to introduce Aemon of House Stark,” he pauses and put into emphasis,”  _and_  House Targaryen. The trueborn son of the late Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and  _Princess_  Lyanna Stark.”

And that spark a reaction Benjen could not help but smirk hearing the men’s collective gasp.

Aemon just raises an eyebrow at the dramatics. “Really, nuncle?”

Benjen smirks at him in return.

* * *

 **210**.  **Aemon would blame Daenerys’ influence in mischief management.**

Aemon just arrive in the middle of a verbal sparring. Rolling his eyes at the scene, he hides his presence in the background to listen. 

A day after his arrival at Castle Black, he is called by his uncle Benjen to a meeting that looks like some sort of war council. As every head of the Northern houses is summoned and gathered in King’s Landing, only their representatives of the houses are able to make it.

 “We need proof!

“Winter is  _here for years as proof given by the Citadel, you bafoon!”_

“Those game-addled Southrons won’t believe so easily.”

”And we have proof that the White Walkers, the  _Others,_ have returned.”

“The _Others_ take them to remain so willfully blind at the truth!”

“Foolish Southrons maybe, they will believe seeing they have faith in the might of dragons.”

“And isn’t that convenient for the House Stark to have the ruling power since they have a trueborn son on their side?”

That pronouncement has Aemon moved to intervene. “I have to make this one fact very clear. Even my sister who is named after Aegon’s sister-wives have no intention of claiming the throne, and neither do I.”

Ignoring the incredulous scepticism thrown at him, Aemon shares his concern, “The Wilding Clans should transfer elsewhere or else they would be resources to build up the White Walkers’ army.”

“And where would you suggest we place them?” Benjen asks, moving to the more problematic issue.

“Obviously, we have to take them into The Gift!”

That sensible recommendation causes an uproar among the gathered crowed.

“They kneel to _no_ king! Why should we trust our enemies inside our territories?”

“If they are smart they would adhere to our laws.”

“For survival probably, but how sure we are that they have honor in their vows?”

“Valyria is willing to provide sanctuary. That would depend on the Wildings’ choices still.” Aemon’s helpful suggestion has several men choking as he further shares, “But I rather doubt it. The Wildings would be compelled to be subservient to the Dragonborn, but since they value their independence from any royalty. They would not accept the invitation. For the Call is not for everyone.”

“V-Valyria?!”

“What oath?!”

“Who the bloody fuck is this Dragonborn?!”

“Did you mean to say that, the mystifying Call that spread no small amount of hysteria to the Andals is Valyrian of origin?”

The Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont clears his throat pointedly and loudly amidst the barrage of speakers to ask, “Is Aemon your great uncle safe then?”

“An Oath of Fealty to Valyria’s Chosen One, the Dragonborn, my twin sister, Visenya,” Aemon explains in open honesty, seeing no need for pretence as he already casted a geass that will prevent the crowd to spread details of his visit and then simply nods his answer to Mormont who accepts with a nod also.

Speechless, stilted silence follows after Aemon’s announcement.

A recovered Benjen proceeds to another matter. “So what is your true purpose for this visit, nephew? Is it to fulfil that blasted prophecy then?”

Another collective gasps echoes inside the meeting room.

Aemon smile is as dry as a desert. “One thing my dragon sire has done right regardless of the tragic circumstances it led is to bring peace to my family and this accursed realm, I will gladly do so.”

“And then what? The Seven Kingdoms will offer the Iron Throne on a platter as our heartfelt token of appreciation?”

Aemon spares the speaker, Alliser Thorne his attention. “It may be due to your advancing age, _Sir_ , as I already made my point in that particular matter.”

Seeing the speaker grinding his teeth in frustration, Aemon furthermore adds in deadpanned tone, “I am overseeing another empire, ladies and gentlemen, much greater than the Seven Kingdoms. _And one of it is Valyria at that,_ Ser Thorne. As such, I prefer that the burden of the Iron Throne does not befall in any of my family. Most especially my twin even if she is the second coming of Aegon’s sister-wife and very good at it.”

With his last bit being said, Aemon bid his goodbye and makes his way out of the meeting room and checks the secrecy of his family’s secret by placing another geass among his audience.

Lastly, Aemon delegates the matter of transferring the Wildings to _The Gift_ to his uncle Benjen Stark.

* * *

 

**211\. Benjen Stark thinks and finds the most unlikely conclusion.**

Back to the meeting room, Aemon has left on his wake Benjen observes how the North and the Night’s Watch perceives his nephew and indirectly his niece.

“What the hell was that?!”  One of the Karstark bellows.

“The otherwise clever Silver Prince threw caution to the wind in the utter belief of the Prophecy and its product is a boy of six and ten to solve the problems of the Seven Kingdoms, in support we sent our children to fight our wars. There comes the one, who takes it seriously, and you’re surprise it leads to this?” is the biting sarcasm coming from Lady Maege Mormont.

It serves as good deterrent to further dissent that could sprout.

 _Ah, good ol’ Maege one of the most sensible Northern ladies I met,_ Benjen feels in appreciation.

“And we must thank the gods as this Aemon seems to have a good head on his shoulders.” is the remark from Lady Barbrey muses out loud her eyes goes unseeing into nowhere.

 _She’s probably thinking of Brandon’s hot temper that got him killed,_ flinching subtly, Benjen could not help but muse silently.

A man of Bolton chuckles. “As expected from a roaring fire tempered by ice.”

“But Ser Alliser Thorn’s words have its merit.”

Benjen looks at the Lord Commander Jeor Mormont at that scrutiny. The man has a faraway look in his eyes.

“Brother?” Lady Maege prompts.

It is a bannerman from House Manderly who harrumphs, “As history tells us, no crown owes loyalty to any person be it male or female. Dragons and the Others. Magic or no. Bah!”

“What do you mean, Ser?” one of the Night’s Watch men asks.

“Aegon the Conqueror fashioned the Iron Throne using his subjects’ sword. The first Visenya was a sorceress. Who could tell she did not spell both the throne and the crown with magic that would curse the undeserving?” Benjen put it in plain words for them.

Before, it is a private study Benjen finds unbelievable. But at present and has been proven by Valyria’s otherworldliness?

Judging the taken aback pasty expressions around him.

…The thought is mindboggling as it is ominous. As if the crown is somewhat sentient. Benjen hopes against all hopes that it is just a product of his overdriven imagination. For the coronation will be more a tad more complicated.

A complication, neither of the twins has to bear.

* * *

 

**212\. Aemon meets The Children of the Forest.**

Snowfall flies Aemon to clearing which has a cave a few distances away in it. And there he waits for his hosts to arrive.

So they did, appearing from the forestry surroundings like animals that camouflage using their surroundings.

 _The Child of the Forest. A shadow of their former glory, a payment demanded by magic for the death curse they bestowed upon the lands. If only they did not hold a claim to Valyria’s Chosen One, those two opposing nature would probably see eye to eye._ Aemon muses quietly.

“Well met, child of fire and ice!” one of them chimes. “The wyrd alters upon your other half’s making.”

“There are things that ought not to be in this world. She is one of them,” another sings.

“The Crow will wish to see her,” informs a third one.

The Children’s enthusiasm of forcing his beloved twin’s hand has Snowfall growling quietly to match his mood. Outwardly, Aemon tilts his head with a mild-mannered expression. “I must refuse the invitation or else my sister will raze the land beyond the wall if any misfortune will befall on me.”

The Children of the Forest moves uneasily as one at the explicit threat.

Inside his cage, Brynden Rivers laughs and coughs at Aemon’s audacity.

“You running away from your destiny?” one of the Children trembles as if to do violence against Aemon.

Aemon scoffs. “Hardly. We will do our part on our own terms.”

“Evil prevails because good man did nothing.”

Aemon scowls. “And I loathe greenseers and ancient magicals who did not even try _harder_ and instead move to play puppeteer and relies on a _human innocent child_ to save the Known World.”

“A child is too young to judge,” one Children chastises him in dissonance.

“As long as we fulfilled our duty according to the prophecy, you lot should be pleased we did it,” Aemon counters back.

The Children of the Forest moves uneasily again like nothing has gone to their expectation and plans.

Then a raven caw as if to remind their purpose and has one of them to dart forward in three steps away to give a parcel to Aemon before going back to his or her kind.

“Dark Sister against the enemy.”

And with those last words for him, the Children of the Forest disappear in sight.

 _Did I unnerve them that much, Snowfall?_ Aemon asks his bonded dragon.

 _You are very brave and foolish, little knight,_ If a dragon could smirk proudly Snowfall would do so.

Aemon chuckles and eyes the sword, Dark Sister, and observes how it matches his twin’s persona on a bad day.

 _Careful, that sworn thirst for blood,_ Snowfall reminds him. His ever watchful companion.

Aemon sends his love to Snowfall and thinks how this sword will serve to match Viserys instead.

The bond from Snowfall is darkly amused by that thought.

Then, Aemon concentrates.

Visenya has admitted that Brynden Rivers had clashed with Jon Snow in some lives. But as jaded as her soul has become, Visenya would not let a dragon suffer alone.

And for one Brynden Rivers, despite everything he is always alone.

And for that, Aemon will be generous.

 _I will come back to free you Bloodraven of Thousand Eyes as enough Targaryen has paid more than our fair share of fire and blood for them for the so-called greater good of Westeros,_ Aemon vows relaying his words to be transferred into Brynden Rivers through his bond with Snowfall.

* * *

 

**213\. Vow between young and ancient dragon.**

As things did not went to their expectation, the Children return with grudging content on their presence.

 _To hell what they think_ , Brynden muses as long as the Prophecy is fulfilled and is taken aback by a message.

“I will come back to free you Bloodraven as enough Targaryen has paid more than our fair share of fire and blood for them for the so-called greater good of Westeros.”

Brynden Rivers smiles. _I will hold you to that, young dragon knight._

* * *

 

**214\. On the other side of the blue sea, Viserys burns.**

It is  normal day on the shipyard of the Stepstones, a few fights, bets, mini-parties, and the usual excitement here and there, until a certain poster is put on view…

Prince Viserys is eating his portion when the raven flies through with the fresh batch of wanted poster and intel. He studies it with half an eye.

Then, out of the blue, the temperature fluctuates like that of blazing hell. The sudden change has not gone unnoticed as the other crew members observe with baited breath eyeing the raging temper of the dragon Balerion.

The temperature continues on to increase even as a composed Viserys takes his armor and sword, "I'll be taking my leave."

Everyone does not know why but it is better for them to see an enraged Viserys Targaryen than this calmed anger.

Curious, a pair of crewmember immediately takes hold of the poster. They both stare on and on.

"Stop staring."

Viserys’ voice catches them all off guard, for it was low and angry and filled with a quiet rage that permeates the whole area.

 _'WHAT IS IT?'_   The crew scream inside their minds.

"Don't even think about it." Viserys warns in outrage, his voice rising in volume.

"The Dragonborn has _never_ looked so tempting,” an insignificant member of the crew mutters in awe.

The temperature drops to zero degrees.

Everyone watches in shock as Viserys leaps to his feet and turns in blazing rage towards the said member.

"I'll kill you!" he shouts as Balerion closes in at the same time.

The others glance at each other in confusion of this new development, in answer a certain wanted poster drops on their lap, and they all lean down at it. The others who are in better control of themselves smile in appreciation, those in mediocre control whistles.

Unfortunately, Viserys has begun to burn his surroundings indiscriminately.

Those crewmembers who are smart and quick enough dive onto the sea for a dip.

When Gerion Lannister finally has the chance to see for himself what had gotten Viserys so unhinged. He looks down at it and stares for a long time. A beauty winking with her right eye with gravity defying raven black curls, violet eyes flecked with silver and framed by dark, long, and thick eyelashes greets him along with a secretive smile.

He can't help but admire the Ice Princess in silence, what concerns Gerion however, is her bounty poster that happens to spread into the Free Cities and who is the fool that dares to spread it.

Paying half an ear to the destruction behind it, an unruffled Gerion wonders in morbid fascination if Viserys has finally lost it. Power is not kind with Viserys who wields it. As Gerion finds out personally with a token of scarring. And the Prince is all terrible for it in the name of love.

Except it’s not just Viserys.

The Dragon Quartet as a whole are all terribly passionate for their love.

And Westeros will soon suffer in that brunt.

Gerion finds no pity in his heart though but envy for those people Visenya selects to be part of her entourage in Westeros.

* * *

**215\. The Magister, Illyrio Mopatis regrets.**

In secret, a remnant of House Blackfyre continues to plot and plot.

What Illyrio deeply regrets was the sex of his child, not a boy but a girl. He names her Rhaenyra. But what could he do with a girl? Only a man could rule the throne. But in time, Illyrio affections grow for his daughter, Rhaenyra.

The Gods knew, if it was Aerys who reigned in Westeros any Targayen trueborn of his House knew the darker agenda Illyrio’s scheming, they would have much sooner rain hell and fire at his head and newborn child. Fortunately as the ill-fates decreed, House Targaryen has fallen. And with that misfortune, House Blackfyre could finally reclaim the Iron Throne. But without the one loop of legitimate claim, say, marriage his plans are on its waiting stage.

Thank the gods, his old friend, Varys put him into contact with the exiled Silver Prince Rhaegar with his son, another Aegon.

_His plans pruned into fruition, a thrilled Illyrio watches in Pentos, a pact has taken place._

_Aegon Targaryen bows and places a kiss on the back of his betrothed's hand. "My Lady, it is a pleasure to meet you."_

_"The pleasure is mine, My Prince," a blushing young Rhaenyra Blackfyre, daughter of Magister Illyrio Mopatis replies courteously._

_Illyrio Mopatis studies this exchange with shrewd eyes. "Shall we discuss business, my Silver Prince?"_

_Rhaegar inclines his head. "We shall."_

_It’s a win-win all around, now that the Rhaegar owe it to House Blackfyre very much as it is._

Strange, how their looms of fate work as the Golden Company which the bastard Daemon Targaryen has founded become a trusted ally with one Rhaegar Targaryen. It is the beginning of a beautiful friendship—wedded and bedded between the Black and Red Dragon Houses and to put down an heir with Blackfyre blood on the Iron Throne.

Except Illyrio’s plans fall apart, when Visenya Blackfyre emerges into the game with an ease and link with ancient magicks that a grudgingly Illyrio envies much.

 _The Call,_ the ravens spread. _We hear the Dragonborn has come._

 _The Renewal of Oath is the beginning of an end,_ the priests and priestess announces in worshipful awe and terror.

 _Names have power,_ the Braavosis warn, _and this Visenya Second of Her Name exceeds even her predecessor._

The Dragonborn give two choices make the Oath or leave the Empire. And there is that damned secrecy geass.

This Visenya irrevocably changes the game.

 _No she did more than that_ , as Varys put it out to Illyrio, _Visenya simply flips the board and shapes it to her own making._

Illyrio is torn. Visenya it seems is one of his blood. He wants confirmation first before he celebrates.

Moons later Varys later adds his findings, _Since this Visenya did not claim House Targaryen, it is an assumption that she’s a bastard child. Of Blackfyre origin._

And to top it off, because for all that ‘Fire and Blood’ running his accomplishments’ veins, both Aegon and Rhaenyra have never hatched a dragon’s egg that grew into horribly potent monstrous beasts.

With her human companions and dragons, the Visenya is on her way to absolute supremacy.

Additionally as if her achievements are not enough, with Visenya Blackfyre are Aemon, Viserys, and Daenerys by her side. The latter, are two members of House Targaryen have a bone to pick up against Illyrio as he is one who caused them no small amount of grief in their childhood years. Gods knew how the two were nearly hunted and faced such miserable childhood to prep them on his sanctuary and turned them into weak willed dragons for his pettiness knows no bounds even innocent children.

 _And if Rhaegar knew,_ Illyrio gulps remembering personally how the gentle prince turned into…

No one must know this secret. _At all cost._

Illyrio genuinely regrets and despairs his machinations against Daenerys and Viserys. His only save is how generous Visenya is. She did not require everyone to take the Oath of Fealty.

 _As much as it helps_ , Illyrio scowls eyeing Visenya’s previous wanted poster (after much haggling with the artist to release it) he is about to one send to Rhaenyra as a message.

His plans may change in a blink of an eye, one thing is constant: a nearly wiped-out dynasty values _above all else_ is family. Bastardry or not. Incest included.

Contingency plans and decisions.

One thing Illyrio agrees with Varys.

The Iron Throne will always belong to those of dragon blood.

 _Be it a Targaryen,_ Illyrio smiles cunningly, _or a Blackfyre._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has wrestled with the update again. Would love to hear your comments about it.


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